Sociopaths
Les reads the oxygen tank at half, then hurdles passed the steps.
Ears pinned, throat tight and eyes burned from ashen sweat.
Falling beams of flame drop like Brick Breaker specials
fast enough to make outrageous risk takers fretful.
His entire vision is an orange glowing hue variant
as he tries to echo-locate the source of screams to carry it.
He reaches apartment 4B and cries as he gets close;
seeing an immolated cadaver stop twitching, tied to the bedpost.
Outside it's all paperwork and logistics.
The captain wants a count from the search of the building.
Lives saved, lost, and ages serve as his interests.
From the payroll to the grave -
is it worth it to dig it?
The phone rings, Samantha's name is on the illuminated screen.
"Hello?"
"Are you okay!?" comes across in an infuriated scream.
"Of course, we're just containing the fires growth rate.
..I saw something...don't worry, but...
I'll be home late"
Jake's on tape duty - holding the press' thoughts locked in
and fielding requests fast enough to moonlight at the stock market.
"you have to wait until the flames are contained.....
we're unaware of any casualties...I've explained, and you ain't..."
and it went on all night as they teemed with contempt
like a dog barking at a piece of meat through a fence.
A tap hit Jake's shoulder;
Then a sigh and whisper were forced out
"Get ready, they're bringing a corpse now."
Corey chuckled at Marty
"the smell flying off this bloke
reminds me of a joke; Frenchmen died, and when he croaked
he had a shit eating grin permanently etched."
"How'd he die?"
"Heart attack amid the fervor of some sex.
Second body came, a Scotsman who recently won from a scratcher...
Pressed his smiling lips at the bar and became a drunken cadaver.
Third body was a redneck with his face fixed elated..."
"How'd he die?"
"Struck by lightning, thought he was having a picture taken."
Father Foley's peripherals see a man unconcerned with disguise.
Through the slats the perfume of gas is burning his eyes.
A rambling maniac repenting by stammering shady facts -
How many hail marys does it take to make a flagellant break his back?
The events described set inside between his lungs and his stomach -
the conversation was one-sided, but the punishment wasn't.
In a bar, away from the thick air, somewhere north of the beach
intersects the lives of the fireman, cop, coroner and priest.
All facing the tender, no order to their seats;
The backgrounds' news channel reanimates the horrors they have seen
while the tender pours a gin and tonic and two whiskeys, neat.
But the father, sullen and through gritted teeth
ordered himself a whiskey on the rocks.
Breaths gone cold from deaths stronghold and distant in their thoughts.
Air whistles between their ears as memories set untold;
The bar light flicker ends behind silhouettes with their heads hung
low.