Notes on the Fire on Queen Street

(pics courtesy of torontoist.com)

Notes from the Fire on Queen Street

MORNING
Chopper chopping the news
Copter hovering above like
A dragonfly suspended

Bulked up firemen; an older one is
Smoking a classic wooden pipe
“My feet are cold” he says
They climb into the idling
Red truck

At least a dozen trucks at
Intersection. These firefighters
Have been here for hours.
The younger ones are the
Grunts lifting canisters of
Oxygen

A slope of kindling across the
Sidewalk; the remains of what was
Once – and before that –
Behind it a steady
Fall of water – five hoses aimed
At the base, one from a tower

Pedestrians on cell phones
Some had heard the news
& came prepared with cameras
We’re all stepping over the
Police tape

The water from the crane
Hose is a solid tube of
Froth a good foot in
Diameter

It’s frigid. My hands are
Cracking from the cold

A beautiful sunny day

The mood is quiet &
Pensive

Axe chopping ice at the sewer drain

Thick boa constrictors of
Fire hoses on the pavement
Lying, some empty, like
Discarded skins & others
Full of water rats
In the middle
Of the city’s busiest intersection
Now transformed

Smoke fallout traveling
East. It will be a stinky walk
To work today

Five more trucks on Richmond
A man knocks at homes
To evacuate?

There will be homeless

EVENING
Two crane ladders

Still pumping streams

Street now lit up like
The film set of a
Horror pic
Haunted Fun House gone
Wrong

Facades iced in cake
Trees and wires hung heavy
With gaudy icicles

Crowds of people
With cell phones &
Cameras
Some smiling; excited
Others grim-faced

Bits of ash floating down
Or is it snow?