Behind the bricked up yard
You could hear two dogs yapping
For hours and hours
Until their voices went,
Almost like they were trying to
Direct the police then the ambulances
To where the crash happened,
Composing imaginary preludes
To piano solos
Using their barking
Skittled with silver
Across the dry, red hot air
Breathing like ghosts
Frantically trying to get across
The top of the wall
To help out in the carnage
That burned throughout that night.
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