It's like a bad summer movie sequel, but this one goes like this:
Fireworks at Penn's Landing
Even the baby is smiling
They look like they will land on us
They shoot into our eyes
The breeze off the river
The familiar chords of Appalachian Spring
Later the baby will be so excited she won't close her eyes until after midnight
Later the three year old will have a meltdown (could it be the 5 scoops of ice cream he devoured at the all you can eat ice cream fundraiser?)
and the tween will escape to the shelter of video games
and there will be fights about whose turn it is to fold the laundry, put away the dishes, change the diaper, get a cigarette break
Later there will be bodies touching beneath the circular breeze of the fan, as the traffic grows loud and soft, loud and soft, again and again beneath us
Although these are things we could anticipate
We don't know them and we don't conjure them
We just watch the green and gold and blue and red
sparkle down on the five us
together
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