fireworks explode over lawn chairs
anchored to the summer grass
it is family tradition

like the the cringe on her face
as she is being shaken awake
deafened by explosions--
a war

that she did not agree to wage
born into a fit of rage
the ****** of a tidal wave
the red and white striped lawn chair reclined
atop a native grave

but we’re looking away
clapping our hands rowdily
amused and swelling with
pride