from the hillside on the south leg
of town
where we hid

the car in the cluster of dogwoods
and cleaned
our hands with alcohol

shucked our clothes from our bodies
and bagged
them in paper sacks

we saw the plume before the fire,
couldn’t smell
the gasoline and matches

only the burning

later, after we dress again, we will
the dumpster

behind the bar in the darkest creases
of downtown
to leave our traces