4th of July

I thought after a few minutes the sky would clear. Maybe a walk to the edge of a different street. Close enough to touch the water. Smell the water? I’d almost forgotten about eleventh avenue. Still the rain came down. The wind too. Across, rather. Enough of one then the other to sweep me east again. Thank god we had another try this year. I thought about that on the train this time. Pink skies, four nights like I’d done something right. Enough light to last us well into the evening. Nine o’clock before I could dissect the moon. What did it mean? It felt fun to guess. All of it like we’d earned this sometime last February. I thought they’d never come. Warmer nights. Sweeter ones. My memory escapes me most of February March April. Were we making up for lost time? I knew better than to frame it like that. Still the fireworks kept on. Painting the sky in every direction. Horizon to atmosphere and back again. Put me in the mood to smoke one on the porch. In time for the last few to fly then fall. I didn’t even like the way they tasted. More just how my hand looked holding one.