Jean on Fire

I wake in the night,
On the shore
I see dark clouds on the horizon
A feeling creeps up within me,
Like whispers from Poseidon
I burn my jeans in the dying fire
I burn the culture
I burn the buildings,
Historical constructions not of my people
I burn you, Sir!
I burn you,
I burn the names you call her
Then she comes,
Walking straight out of the sea
She looks at me, sees me,
Naked
Smoke rises from the ashes of my jeans,
From her
She has come,
Erasing the clouds from the sky
I am naked,
Naked of your claim
With her,
The sky clear,
It now sparkles
What could be better?

-fg