Fire

Black satanic fumes shroud the blank blue skies in puffing jet black soot; few flashy cameras record glimpses of destruction (for tomorrow's papers) ... Our huts are burning— Regular huts in proper rows. Dry thatches (conspirators-in-crime) feed the flames as we rush out shrieking-crying-moaning open mouthed hysterical curses and as if in an answer— when the blazing work is done Fire engines arrive... Deliberately late. These feverish cries continue in the same shrilly pitch echo, echo, echo and finally reach... Up there. Reverberate and sound as loud as snail shells crackling under nailed boots and perhaps as distinct and defenseless. This double catastrophe projected in sights and shrieks evokes... No response. Those above are (mostly) : indifferent bastards.