Residents of the Air
Those poor people, they thought. What’s wrong with them that their houses don’t rise, too?
I want to see the mountains, I’m sick of the ash and the sweat. Please let us play in the yard again. Look what your complaining has done. Even the house is upset with you.
You’ll break your neck, for crissakes—It’s safer up here than it is down below,I don’t know about you, but I don’t miss the earth at all.
Those poor people, What’s wrong with them that their houses don’t rise, too?
Fuck off, Sue,
Maybe it’s their fault. Maybe they’re the reason we can’t rise,guilt quilts
The fire.It’s here.
Run, the fire’s here, get your kids, save yourselves!
Look how many of us are left behind.
I wonder how they’re faring,Surely they’ve escaped by now.
It’s best to forget about themThey can take care of themselves. Out of sight, out of mind.
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