This explosion was not caused by natural gas, said a DWP inspector

Emerging from a clapboard bungalow
I walk out into the stark night's contrasts
With its textured grays; a Noir night mindset
As mist slow-creeps o'er Santa Monica hills.

Muting homicides in the valley below
I can hear the coastline breaker motions
On the slopes that overlook the ocean.
And news choppers that follow the twin streams

Of snaking freeway lights both red & white
And concrete shed of L.A.'s river bed
That sink into the misty bank, swallowed whole
Never to be seen or heard from again.

Though the local reports continue to
Buzz & broadcast from TV sets around
The south land as pretty, young weather girls
Stand ready in their summer dresses to

Update sleepy viewers on tomorrow's
"End of Summer" just as breaking news hits:
"Ponies were thrown clear of the blast", they said.
Next a man's voice, "Okay, folks, this is it!".

West Hills, a peaceful neighborhood where the
Manicured houses & yards suddenly
Shuddered as a garage disintegrated
And glass and pieces of roofs fell into trees.

As people slowly came out of hiding
And shielded their eyes as they squinted upward,
Lo' & behold, cartwheeling from the force
Flew little ponies tossing manes & neighing.

Firetrucks and the Gas company vans,
Their sirens braying through the shattered quiet,
Looked bewildered and forgot about the news
Because they now had found themselves in it.

Kids who lived on the streets of debris
All scattered, running the opposite way
In pajamas, pointing over their heads
While the colors of the ponies faded.



http://laist.com/2017/09/21/west_hills_home_explosion.php

For the DUP competition "Ponyhenge"