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Fourth of July, 1992 By David Prestidge Seven shots and a tonic later (My God, I've had enough) Venus twitched, nervously, then ducked Behind a cloud Just before our mayor, belt cinched like a bank Across a lap drawing strength from middle Age, says "A Tribute to a Star Spangled Flag This Star Spangled Night" You see them before it hits you. Incandescent, benign, gray phantoms Trail vertically upward and, Feigning non-existence, Scatter blue-lidded barbs That impale a tattered skein Of velvet shadow. I knew this man. We passed out tracks for our church. Our pockets filled with pennies, big reds, black cats. Unconfirmed men. Concealing our interest We showered be-ribboned, half woman With model napalm. This no longer occurs. (and our town the safer for it) Those young girls, now women, Offered several solutions-- None of which augmented our modest militia. So now we get the safe show. We rape the stars, their natural glow Spoiled by municipal decree. Yes, it's a safe show--But Your ears ring hours afterwards and Your hair smells of cinder, flint, sulfur. And the trajectory! The light! Like light, drawn from a rasping iode, Casting vague haloes over a glass sea. No girls run for cover. God will bless our town Our hunkered down town Leaving tracks in a crowded sky Like distilled evolution. |
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Document last modified on: 09/07/1999