BURNING SEASON

open fires are now legal, for awhile
old bucky two toes doesn’t read the newspaper,
but he knows it’s burning season again.
under his blistering feet he can feel the sidewalk
baking and cracking
even through the holes in his shoes,
even in his phantom limb toes,
while certain buildings glow like coals.
the city is burning, quietly.
buck knows also because his skin is red and dry,
and his usual ritual of shuffling up and down lark st.
is now causing sparks to shed from his sagged shoulders.
tonight, old bucky two toes has fire in his mouth
and belly.
usually, he has nothing.
sometimes, he has cigarettes.
soot covered fingers bring a lucky strike to his parched mouth.
he reeks of gasoline.
ol’ buck knows he won’t get no grief for his alleyway bonfire.
the air is too smokey for the police to leave their squad cars,
but if they did--
“pig roast!” he snorts gleefully to himself
exhaling smoke in a long crackling wheeze like piss on embers.
a lone passerby overhears this and
believing he was addressing her,
she nervously quickens her pace to that of a hot coal walker.
with each step, she thanks god that
at the very least
her path home is now exceptionally well lit.