'Between Friends as good as US?', he finished, smiling.
The townsfolk were gathered, with torches made from oily marsh grass burning brightly in their hands. None of them were smiling.
'Nature can Regenerate. The Gulf is Huge', BP continued.
'In a year, maybe ten, you won't think anything happened.'
Up, Up in the Air Flew a dozen torches at once. They flipped through the air towards BP.
'What are you doing?' he screamed.
'Saving our land', shouted the townsfolk as one.
'What?' asked BP, looking up as the torches arced overhead, falling into the marsh grass a few yards a way. The grass took fire as the torches touched down. The marsh was burning.
'Are you crazy? Have you lost your minds? What do you think you are doing?' BP looked wary as he asked, fight or flight battling it out in his mind, with flight winning.
The townsfolk did not reply. They threw the last of their torches and turned away. Their land burning. Thick oil smoke lifting to the heavens.
BP turned too, and ran as quickly as possible to the waiting helicopter, to take him away from this crazy place.
'If only their oil wasn't so valuable,' he thought, thinking of better times and easier profits as the helicopter whirred away from the conflagration.
[Ok, so this isn't a poem. I can't think of anything that rhymes with 'conflagration'. Get over it]
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment