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