justwrite 3 july

when the fireworks arrive i am under the impression that they are early they are breaking the night with their lightning wrists cracking under the burden of entertainment who can look away who can stay back from the yellow-ribboned edges i am waiting to give away my funnel cake a martyr to the cause of less bother for all and for all a good night i will back away slowly i will read this book into the night until the colors run black run white run unsung into the stale yellow pages of my vague competition as if anyone listening considers it such as if anyone listens to me type standing outside in the night pressing an ear to my screen the window wire conspiring both to let out and to keep in these tangled strands unhandled by clamour i am realizing that well it's gone now although all along i had a sneaking suspicion that if i could listen more closely then mostly i would be the one sitting on the porch and laughing in the afternoon i would never be the one to scum up the clear reflection of a summer evening i am grieving for the purposeful accidents i have perpetrated i am waiting for the paint to dry but i cannot i adopt a tone of indifference i can not bear to be touched it is too much to be beside the point and besides it's a high tide that blows no one ill spilling through the broken frames a rearranged view besides besides