The first thing i see,
over the tops of the lonely piano,
are the flapping blood-red stripes of the proud, flagpole.
The trees are rejoicing,
the sun has chased their shadows from the lawn,
their arms are open; welcoming the day’s sky.
the lights are off and the house is quiet,
it’s always weird waking in someonelse’s home.
cool, white tile,
past a parade of family pictures,
and into the next room-
a pile of teenagers sprawled on the couch.
‘What You’re Horoscope Could Tell You’
lying on the table,
through the wall of windows:
morning dew collects over smoky butts and half-drunk beers
no one ever thinks of this scene the night before.
“We won’t be able to make it home through the center for at least another hour”
a groggy voice informs from behind.
“ahh that’s right it’s the fourth of July!”
I picture myself as a kid,
waiting anxiously on the curve,
holding my little brothers ears when the fire trucks pass,
never would I have imagined then,
anything more devastating,
than missing the parade.