Sunday, May 19, 2013

V. 2, #52: May 19, 2013

Benny was only seventeen years old
the night he disappeared. An average kid
who did no worse than anybody did
at school, nor better neither, truth be told.

They say he climbed the city's water tower
on some fool-hearted dare. He danced atop
its dome--the girls were begging to stop,
the boys just egged him on. And then a flower

of bright kaleidoscopic brilliance flashed
above his head like some magician's act.
There was a sound like falling, broken glass.
The kids all gaped, waiting for it to pass.
It did. They found Ben's clothes, folded, intact,
right where he'd stood, beside a pile of ash.


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