The Tumble of the Twin Towers

Black smoke consumes the fresh air
In New York today, soot entering my throat
On an otherwise normal autumn day.
The towers have fallen, how many have died they won't say,
Just that Christmas will be different.
Red and blue, not green; I shudder as the smoke wraps his arms around my throat.
Next year at this time,
"Do you remember?" will be played all day
And this snake won't be draining hte life out of me
But what exactly will I remember?
Tumbling towers trailing through the sky,
The man who leapt from the window, or the days on end searching for survivors?
A fireman sees me just in time, "You don't have a mask? Use one of mine!"
The rubble is piled several feet high, with people in between, and as I pass by, I catch a muffled scream.