Nine Eighteen

Sitting,
in the damp grass
outside the cable car station.

Surrounded by smokers, families,
and strange foreign lingo
all waiting,
but for what?

Then the first sparks light up the sky,
planets spin and flowers bloom,
missiles are launched into the suddenly starry sky,
comets fall and traffic light hydrangeas burst into showers
of sliver and gold.

Then suddenly,

the rain dissapates,
the sky is filled with ash,
smoke,
and glowing embers.

The crows  disperse.
They turn their backs on the burning city and shuffle off to their sleepy homes.

It is nine eighteen.