...and what is the deal with schaudenfruede, anyway?

I want to make smores over a campfire right now.
Decades of life lived in the kindling going up before me, and my stomach rumbles.
Two firefighters share a hearty laugh over some waterbottles while another flirts with a paramedic with prominent cheekbones and dark, laughing eyes.
Your house is burning down while you laugh and play in Sea Ranch
and your Grandmother cries and worries about what to tell you
and I stand on a hill and watch the wood pile fall over, a warm bonfire that mostly just makes me hungry.