“Fahrenheit 451—the temperature at which book paper catches fire and burns…” ~Ray Bradbury
Dandelion tickles her soft chin
Montag, are you in love or not?
Childish star girl of evergreen
Dial watch face and whatnots
Life with you, in pretty whims
Until a beetle ran you over flat
Her liquid mercury eyes staring
Where did we first meet, Millie?
Her snowless island, yet hailing
Faux laughs of a parlour family
Life, with you, lacklustre feeling
Until a snake expunged toxicity
Mechanical hound, metal growl
What are fires, but clean lauds?
Captain, with a solid-set scowl
His knowledge, logically sound
Life with you, exhilarating goals
Until a dragon melts your ground
Brittle bones creaking with age
Books bleed pores, do you see?
The clever professor assuages
With green thimbles, philosophy
Life with you, easy plans staged
Until wolves chased relentlessly
A silver salamander button melting
Fill this sieve with sand for a dime?
A fireman with his joys misguiding
A forbidden hobby to pass the time
Life with himself, scary, confusing
Until books made him feel sublime
In a monochromatic dystopia, a future glowing bleak
Yes. Chicago. Beauty. Yes. Can’t. Answered his insights
Wars waged in twenty seconds, and families of static
Watching butterfly pages curling, words burning bright
Life as Book of Ecclesiastes, walking with his fellow literaries
I’ll save this passage for when we finally reach the city lights…