you can siphon gasoline into a folger's coffee can
you can walk up behind big dirt piles of ants
piles that grow in the middle of your yard overnight
fourteen inches high and two feet wide
and douse them with gasoline
set a matchbook on fire with the snap of your fingers
throw
and watch
i like to do this on a sunday
early
when there is fog
i stand with a green watering can
sprinkle the fire with water at the split second where dirt hits grass
just before it spreads to the whole yard
sizzle and smoke sting my nose and i breathe deep
sometimes i look through the bay window
and see my dad looking back
standing with a hand on the extinguisher
as i turn and smile and wave
boys in high school use to break open cigarette lighters
rub the ends on their blue jeans and light their legs with fire
once the butane burned
flames went out
neither jean nor 10th grade boy was worse for wear
of course the study hall monitor did not know this
when it happened during third period
and flames shot up from our circle in the fifth row of desks
trees fall like snowflakes in our neighborhood
they break in half
from those types of storms particular to the south
from ice storms and tornadoes
they leave stumps in the ground
and branches poking through the roof of your car or house
big men come by the next day
tie ropes to their waist
knots to halves of tree left in the ground
and pull the rest of it down and out
they yank with some unknown strength
they yell "hey, move across the street there" to us audience of kids
because we are all standing way to close
staring, panting with adrenaline
inches from a tree that is falling to the ground
while they sweat
i want to be a part of their danger
i want to hold their hand
wet and scratched and sticky with pine
i want them to hoist me on their shoulders like a scarf
while i breathe man and oil and aftershave
and they pull down trees right beside us
i am the one sitting closest
in the circle of boys in study hall as they break lighters
my chair scooted right up against theirs
my eyes bright in watching and waiting
i want to be associated with this that they are doing
i want to laugh as boys light their legs on fire
as men pull down trees
i try to feel sorry for my father
as he panics when i light our yard ablaze
and runs out the front door with the big red cylinder of nitrogen
but he pulls up short
seconds too late
watching me already sizzle out the flame
with water from my green watering can
i like these quiet distances
safe dangers
danger that can take me to the point of exhilaration without fear
there are things i may not do
but give me a pile of ants and gasoline
any day and i will show you exactly what i am capable of
