The 4th

we are lined up like toy soldiers waiting

to be played with as candy flies

into the streets

where the children brave passing cars and trucks to pick up the ravaged

goodies that have survived.

my daughter wonders why there were no horses and I am sure it’s because

no one wants to be on shit duty.

all vehicles head for the legion field

where a free hot dog and a coke

satisfies the hungriest tummy,

those that are older are treated to music

that sours with the wind, wafting

toward our porch where Tylenol

is our best friend.

butchered songs hang in the air like hogs at the slaughter-

house, and we retreat

into our houses to save what is left

of our dignity for listening so long.