Matters of Public Record

If you heard sirens this morning, that was probably me. I brought the old factory wheel from the back corner of the yard to the middle and doused it with gasoline, then lit it.

I ran inside to get the guitars and the books but someone saw it and before I could get them out to what I believed would be a pyre I heard the sirens so I stayed inside and called into 911 myself. Quick thinking.

I hurried back outside and picked up the gas can so I had an excuse for the smell on my hands. I told the firefighters it must have been a neighborhood prank. I don’t think they bought it, but I’m still home because no one can prove otherwise.

Right now, I’m out of cigarettes but feel a little nervous about going outside in case someone’s watching to see if I do try again. I’m waiting to see what the ravens say before I decide, but according to whatbird.com, there are very few ravens around here. It may be a long wait.

So I’d love it if someone would bring me some American Spirit cigarettes. I like mine blue, thanks.

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Everybody, relax, ok? It’s a poem.