before the sirens fade

Before the sirens fade and the last drop dries,
the flies have commenced their gruesome task
insatiable zealots relishing their latest meal.
The cloud of confusion and righteous anger
hovering over the street slowly settles,
a bitter shroud clinging to bloody flesh.
Yellow tape snakes its way around the scene,
feeble yet efficient. No one ventures beyond.
No one would dare.
On the other side, people moan, demand, swear,
and eventually make their way home.
The next day or the next, the propaganda will be recycled,
as bodies are examined, identified, and laid to rest.
Sweepers will sanitize the path you tread,
and the traffic will return, passing unaware.
What would you expect? This is how you survive,
not so much clinging to life as pursuing it.
And my student asks me if I honestly think
he should buy the newest iPhone or Galaxy.
Let me think about it.

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