History of Egypt
...rd the wolf whine of the siren, he woke my mother, and she pushed and shoved us all into waking. Once roused we longed for burnt wood and a smell of flames high into the pines. My old man liked driving to rich neighborhoods best, swearing in a good mood as he followed fire engines that snaked like dragons and split the silent streets. It was festival, carnival. If there were a Cadillac or any car in a curved driveway, my father smiled a smile from a secret, brittle heart. His face lit up in the heat given off by destruction like something was being made, or was being set right. I bent my head back to see where sparks ate up the sky. My father who never held us would take my hand and point to falling cinders that covered the ground...