Eight Years Old

The man on the news said there was a string of fires,
as if a dragon from the Chinese New Year
was trotting across our town
and homes burst in its wake. But here,
with the blanket and the darkness,
I’m not sure. It might be coming but
if I don’t look, maybe not. Maybe
I’ll run if we burn. If it all goes,
I’ll run to Washington and ask
the president to adopt me. He’s
got to, because he’s the president and
they have to do the right thing.

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