AFTER THE BIG FOURTH
Akron, NY



The tires of an orange dump truck
have striped the grass of a town common.
A rolled bundle of red snowfence
lands with a wiggling bounce
atop a stack fitted deep in the truckbed.

Flies and bees circle trash
spilling from yellow barrels.
The booths are still up, skeletal, tired,
the grass spotted with firecracker wrappings.

One worker talks of the firetrucks,
the marching band,
how he always enjoys a parade.
Another claims the beer tent,
country music and the fist fights
are what independence is all about.
The foreman complains about the chewing gum
that was thrown into the street,
he don't like to see kids in fronta moving vehicles.
His is the final word,
what the town authorities will discuss
for next year.
They cease speaking.
The only sound is a young squirrel
scoring claw marks
into the cedar deck of a gazebo.
A mother stops her knitting, cheers
on her daughter riding high on a swing.
A fatigued tourist finds a bench in the shade.
She's just left a yard sale
without making a purchase.
Feels a little guilty.
The prices are always cheap enough
in any small town,
it's just that lately she's seeing
the same old dishes
everywhere she goes.

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