The 5th of July
And scorched driveways
Buckets filled with soot-filled water
And spent sparklers
Now black bumpy sticks of metal
Hollow and tipped with black burns
Red mini parachute caught
In branches or hanging
Out of the gutter on the house
In the distance
A random snap or pop
Reports and breaks the silence
And the slight smell of gunpowder
Drifts by in the humid summer breeze.
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