Walking slowly up the drive way
Under the plaza hotel hitherto utter calm
I carry a chain almost as thick as my arm
dozens of car carcasses littered the lane
Mechanics and thieves worked under the overhang
A tunnel entrance that had caved in and looked like a garage
The chain moved like a thick python in my hands
I swung it and hit it against the dry soot and sand
Dust plumed and drifted until the all was obscured
So thick was it, that the eyes were assaulted sick
Unable to make out shapes encouraging panic
I swing the chain it's tip hitting panels, windows
Occasionally flesh
Often just the air
But dust did settle
And not soul had remained in the lane
Under Plaza hotel
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