An early evening gust broke the back of the day's blaze Still 90 degrees at eight in orange haze Sweat runs down my neck Through the gorge between my ******* The wind lifts my linen shirt runs its hands along my sides reviving memory of Forest Park of a blanket in the grass
Where the pines trace so many faces Crackling popping kids stolen matches, running screaming victorious! Blowing tin cans up with fire crackers Bicycles, sparklers, fireworks at dusk That whole afternoon I spent hammering caps
Noise really makes us kids really especially annoying
Mom wants us out! Gone! All of us! No needs. No excuses! No cookies! No slices of bologna! “No more Kool Aid! Out now! Out!”
That evening I tried to dismiss the itchy sweat of ******-sister-Suzy-matching-sun-suits at Gino's family picnic When some kid (I don't know?) between the rigatoni and the sweet corn Some kid tosses a sparkler into box of fireworks I don't know? whether to cry or laugh I was pretty scared Rockets going off across the lawn and onto porch Craze of colors through the trees Some at eye-level horror! But the sight of Aunt Nedda diving under picnic table Stockings, garter belt upended Capsized beyond her caring of uplifted dress
Some images just stay with you, ya know?
July 4th always lands for me on a firework's ***
"Caps" are little red rolls of gunpowder dots, originally made to give a snap to toy guns of the 1950s. We figured out that by layering them and using a hammer, you could get a bigger *****.