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.