I'm a guy. I love a good explosion. Bright and noisy.
When a story starts to drag, I've said to myself: "I need to blow something up."
Maybe a bomb. Maybe a fight. Maybe a crash of some sort.
Sometimes you just need a bang.
The garage with the vans, trucks, and mowers,
The power-tools, golf-carts, and all the fuel
Explodes like a hammer-blow to the chest.
The wall is breached. Bricks scatter like snowflakes.
Burning tires on rims bounce into the sea
Sizzling as doors, beams, and chassis splash down.
The macaques exploit the gap, dodging flames
And leaping rubble to gain the beachhead.
Without a pause they dive into the waves
To swim after logs, benches and barrels.
From Cathartes Aura and the Apocalypse Zoo, Chapter Nine, Verse Five.
The power-tools, golf-carts, and all the fuel
Explodes like a hammer-blow to the chest.
The wall is breached. Bricks scatter like snowflakes.
Burning tires on rims bounce into the sea
Sizzling as doors, beams, and chassis splash down.
The macaques exploit the gap, dodging flames
And leaping rubble to gain the beachhead.
Without a pause they dive into the waves
To swim after logs, benches and barrels.
From Cathartes Aura and the Apocalypse Zoo, Chapter Nine, Verse Five.
Thank you for sharing - love how dramatic your piece is!
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