Thursday, October 11, 2018

Scene of a Disaster

It was a Type I, Category III emergency,
beyond my personal resources to resolve.
I did a walkaround, sized up the situation,
called for backup,
but no one was on the way.
Mayday, emergency traffic, evacuate now!
I called for a defensive mode of operations.
There was no saving this.
Containment and protection of exposures
were the objectives now.
Retreat, retreat! Abort, abort!
Overwhelmed by the tragedy and conflagration,
I am ready to surrender command.
I walk through the ruins,
Boots crunching broken glass,
smoldering ashes,
toxic fumes.

“I had a wonderful time tonight,” he said.
“Would you be interested in coming back
to my place for some coffee?”
“I’m awfully tired,” I replied
with an apologetic frown.
“I’d like to see you again,” he suggested.
“Uh, I’m pretty busy this month.”
I start digging through my purse for car keys.
“I’ll get back to you, okay?”
Wet kiss deflected to left cheek.
In the safety of my car,
I slump head on the steering wheel
and exhale.

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