He is burning
his dresser in his backyard.
Smashing it to pieces,
he tosses them in.
Flames leap skyward.
Smoke envelops the man.
Where will he keep
his extra large clothes,
I wonder.
Just then he attacks
the remains of the dresser.
Like a maniac
he swings something wildly.
I cannot see weapon for smoke.
He has gone mad.
There are cracks, thuds,
and the splitting of wood
illustrates his anger.
Then it is quiet, except
for crackling fire
and the shuffle of my feet
as I quietly back away.
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