Containers

Broken roller blades leaned against
each other in the corner of their over
packed garage. The dust covered everything
including all the plastic decorations
that had not been on display
for several years now.
In the center of the room by the support beam
was the burn mark from where
the match was struck and gasoline
was scattered like confetti.
The belt buckle they found
looked like a wolf when it was purchased
now there was nothing recognizable about it.
In the video he made, where he was wearing
the same flannel he was burned in,
it was made clear he hoped she found him
before anyone.
It was their only son who had just done
acid for the first time before riding back
from his friends house on the outskirts
of their ever shrinking town.
He punched in the four digits
to get the doors to open and then
just stood there in the cloud of smoke
the house puked out and nothing
could contain.

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