Spitflare and lime-green exploding in mid-air, a shower of incandescence pouring out on the dark ground, the river punctuated by bursts of ephemeral light wisping away in the wounded sky. Summer days, saliva days, sunburned and truculent. Beer in the cooler and it’s all right.

The crowds move down seventh street to get a better view. Kaleidoscope eyes and frantic calm waiting for the next big one. The rat man is here and he’s got his doberman, mean motherfucker tore up that kid over on Church but the owner got out of the lawsuit. Says the kid provoked him and had a better lawyer. Smoking a cigar in a chain link fence, low house empty and dark. Got tons of shit in there to sell they say. The old neighborhood is shit and the clouds are moving in but tonight’s a break, a time for wonder and exuberance. Finale’s coming on strong and it’s a hurricane in purple and gold, a sky for Persian kings and myrrh. July wind blowing hot breath lifting skirts and scattering paper and old newspapers.

Jen’s on the hill with a Bud sketched in grey and silver watching the boats on the river, red lights burning in the deep. The rest of the group’s waiting for the big shine, laughing at the men with moustaches and the old people. When’s the bonfire a pale-faced girl asks feels the flush of beer and the suspension of time. We’ll meet up at my place someone yells and the rockets bathe him in crimson light. There’s no moon but no one minds.

~ by Benji on March 26, 2009.

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