I wanted to go to sleep early last night
even though it was the 4th of July.
I know all about that infamous date.
What it means to the world for better or worse.
I don’t idolize anything including myself
but all that noise outside my window
I had to give it a look.
Fireworks. The same old thing.
Do I need lots of noise and flashes
somebody long gone who died for me?
I’ll bet no more than one in twenty
alive really feels that way.
Besides all that noise is about war.
Haven’t we learned a lesson?
We’re keeping alive a powerful notion.
To be independent one has to keep alive
the old in the new and such things as
the sky is blue and sometimes raining
too much and the innocent drown.
And my ancestors killed the Indians with a sneeze.
Just thinking about that makes me wrap
a big fat towel around my head to force myself to sleep.
And that I did lock stock and barrel.
Tropes flying at me like a bunch of monkey wrenches.
So I picked one up and wacked myself with it.
And what do you know I saw this:
a crab crying, a mouse saying prayers,
a pol rope-a-doping in the public square.
And a poet taking off to God knows where.
Then what did it do? It unwrapped its head.
Sighed a bit and dropped dead.
That’s it. Look no further. You’re out the door
waving a flag forever more.
Blowing yourself up with all those inferior people.
And starting all over on your laptop steeple.
Hoping something works before you quit.
I’ve got a hunch. There’s much more than this:
Change for a dollar.
Watch your words.
Face the fireworks
and be heard.