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I stay home and watch fireworks on the Fourth of July
my son thinks they're shooting stars
they race over our deck celebrating the accuracy of our drones
they celebrate the red glare of rockets landing in puddles of
families huddled around their breakfast tea and zaatared bread
starbursting rockets explode simple dreams of music and dance
pieces of flesh and hair and secret imaginings of romance and jasmine in the garden
all fly together into interstellar air
the fireworks’ ashes rain down into our sweet, iced tea
we consume the bitter dream particles and digest them into a lesser form