Already the fires have started
out East: an acre in Monitor,
at least a thousand near Malaga.
You could see the smoke for miles
apparently, a bruise developing.
Burn piles and dry brush,
unheard of on this side where
we live in practically a floating city;
can’t go a mile without crossing
a bridge, the peril here being
that everything is built on filled
land, layered on top of small
personal histories, but at least
when it gives way, eventually,
we’ll all have been expecting it
to some degree.