spontaneous human combustion

i sit in this chair,
sprawled,
watching an entire population
detonate
by the intention
of a wick,

and all i can do
is light another cigarette
and stare
at my lighter
like it has
an answer.

there are literally
a million people
lighting themselves on fire right now,
who are not buddhist monks,
but who are compromised
of gasoline
and flint,

combustions of meat
that eventually end
in the pasture of ashes
that form stars.