words of a people aligned in their perfect order
firecrackers, bottle rockets and gunfire.
July 3rd premature ejaculation punctuating
already poor sleeping summer night.
roman candles blue center light sizzling
like so many horribly dangerous sparklers
blinding and burning.
mortars shake the house and
dozens of fingers and hands sacrificed
at the alter of popular patriotism.
Reminds me of when I set off a rocket of some sort and it shot across the street, into the neighbors bushes, and voila, a small blaze ensued..
Hence, I only handle paper flags now..
I never sacfificed a finger, but I did lose the heel of my shoe in sixth grade while trying to stomp a cherry bomb…
the platitudes of willful resemblance 