Wednesday, July 3, 2013

Happy Fourth!


 
A lazy Fourth, hot
as hell outside. (But I like this weather.)
Happy Independence Day, I say
to the dog; she raises
her heavy head and looks
at me puzzled. She is,
afterall, an American bitch.

All and sundry are now barbequing
in their backyards,
and the Boston Pops, no
doubt, are playing on the sizzling
esplanade by the everstreaming
Charles. Everyone is waiting
for dark to fall and the fireworks
to rocket into the sky, spewing
Mickey Mouse out
of a three-dimensional
cube wrapped in dancing ribbons.

Afterall, what is more American
than Mickey Mouse.

The dog and I doze off
to the light breeze fashioned
by the tired fan;
she on the rug,
I on the couch.

Independently. 


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