Sex & Fireworks: a poem

Sex &

Fireworks--

the slow build, the

patience of

anticipation.

Darkening sky &

only silhouettes, bodies

lit in flashes,

appreciative

oohs &

ahhs.

The Grand Finale

comes in under 15 minutes--

no one

is disappointed--

lawn chairs & blankets,

bugspray &

the perfect spot,

all the preparations

only added to

the simple satisfaction--

the show delivered,

building from

slow to fast,

small to big,

finishing off

with a string of brilliant

sound & color

too fast to follow, each

explosion interlacing

with the next &

lasting longer than

expected.

Then-- silence.

Dusky dark blue sky

luminous from within,

trail of floating smoke

carried elegantly away

by the wind, then,

cheers--

tasteful applause

for expectations met,

for a flamboyant expression

of the American Dream.

Then--

cars start up

chairs are folded,

lights turn on,

the magic is over;

everyone goes home to their beds,

sleeps well

all through the night,

arms around

the ones they love.

Happy

4^th of July.

-Rose Arrowsmith DeCoux, 4 July 2011