I Did Not Start That Fire

I did not start that fire, but I roasted marshmallows in its sunny flames. I didn’t start the rumor, but I enjoyed telling it to others. I didn’t lie, but I didn’t offer you the truth. I didn’t start the endeavor, and I’m not going to stop it either.

I did not start that fire, but I’ll push you in and say you tripped. You are famously clumsy, everyone will believe me.

I did not start that fire. Wait, maybe I did–just so I could rush in and save you. I’ve always wanted to be a hero, even if it was only for 10 seconds on the local evening news.

I did not start that fire, but I’ll mischievously fan its flames. I like chaos. I like to see men panic, all their fake bravado draining away fast like the blood flows from a big boar hung up on a hook after the slaughter. Oh, I like fires. They say they are necessary, cleansing, very healthy.

Everyone is very scared of flames, of snakes, of evil sneaking up on them, unaware, while they are scrubbing the sink. That’s a funny image, thinking you have won the war on entropy when the fire–my fire–gets you by surprise.

3 Responses to “I Did Not Start That Fire”
  1. Natasha Beck says:

    I like the repetition of "I did not start the fire."Natasha

  2. Thank you! The open workshop, where I wrote this, was fantastic.

  3. s. wilson says:

    wow – i love this piece! thanks for sharing your work.

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