Tuesday, July 05, 2016

hottest

the sun through closed windows is a thug
peek out there, is he still around?
all day we find one way or another to avoid
the grill, the hambugers, the hot dogs, 
  let's be a parade of three as long as we don't
 have to go outside.
 never mind, download another game on the fire, 
the cut from the beach begins to ache. 
it's even too hot to play dolls. 
she wants to go home. 
daddy says he'll have sparklers.
here is only laundry and no ice cream and 
 a firebomb blast every time 
the door opens. 



  the weeds have been picked and scythed 
under the shade and reclining sun, less a blowtorch
than a hundred candles. tonight there will be fireworks
all along the causeway.    park
on the edge at dusk while the shoreline bursts
into weeping willows and dandelions 
while the sky is sprinkled with lovers knots
and parachutes of stars. 
thousands have had the same idea
but your timing was perfect. you caught all eight
  lights  green on memorial and breezed 
through the mess  turning into the parking garage.
you head for the third light, after the sandy
 beach where the rocks
pile against the linear  motor parkway and palms
dot the roadside in packs of five.  when the tide 
is out, you can scramble down to the water
but tonight the air swims
 in mulitcolored mini temporal jellyfish
as you turn right. there is a fortuitious
 boat ramp, emptying in the dying light.
your spot is second in. cross the hiway 
to the other side, backing up traffic 
that turns into the gridlock bayside
even more. you dare the cars to hit you.
any other night they wouldn't even see you.
thousands . with hundreds of dollars of skyrockets
and areal bombs , all looking for a place to be beautiful.
you leave early, when the first of the assault rifle mimics
begins to go off. you aren't quite sure it's just fireworks
anymore. niether is the woman who just pulled back
to make more room to set off these things for her baby,
who she pulls close to her breast when that sound hits.


i cant express the trepidation that rests
in the back of my head everytime i go out in public
where there are potential victims for potentential
lone gunmen with semi automatic weapons 
that go off like firecrackers but with a deadlier results.
it takes an act of blindness to think it won't happen
eventually here, somehow, where you go, where
we gather in the name of freedom, and the lurker
with the bullets that need no names.


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