thousands sit on lawn chairs in summer grass amid the smell of bug repellent, charcoal grills and gunpowder ears filled with pop, bang, poppity-pop from a sparkling spectacle above for a fleck of time, in the long blue stretch of night all eyes are fixed on one thing together looking at heavens without words only light that leaves as quickly as it came
written July 4, 2008, the last time I witnessed a fireworks display