last night I set a paper bag of popping corn on fire in the microwave.
as the flames engulfed the bag, I gingerly pulled the bundle of pyrotechnic possibility out of the heating square
my brain ticked rapidly to locate the fire extinguisher.
vision became a Goldeneye screen
I was moving player 1
45 degrees, one click, one more,
turn back, advance, no fire extinguisher
Eyes switch to the left and land on a metal mixing bowl
10 o'clock as the crow flies
I grabbed it and set it upon
the now
entirely
flaming
paper bag
Smoke started to creep out from the turned-up edges of the metal bowl
so I threw a towel around it, then flipped it right-side-up scooping a few bits where the fire persisted. Splashed water around.
Sighed.
My feet turned toward the broom closet, but my hands found nothing.
Last resort took a small hand brush sweeping device and swept up all of the blackness around me. I swept and swept and the ash turned into a light rain and I softly laid down on a pillowed fluttery mountain
and the rain was only dust around my temples
swirling in the mist I heard your voices and laughed and fell strangely asleep.
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