Joe Grieco

SAFE AND SANE

I pretty much hate the Fourth of July.

For starters, it’s just too hot to eat.

But you go to the table and ask for a hot dog,

Your third, an abundance of mustard and Souza.

I am who I was as a child of seven,

Who can’t wait for the fireworks, wait for the night.

But there’s always some joker who thinks it’s a crack-up

To set-off a rocket and launch it at kids.

I wish people would stop with their stupid ideas.

The time that my father made me grab hold a sparkler,

The prettiest part burned my skin, on my lifeline.

Those who are close to us do the most damage.

I can hear the screen door. I can hear it spring shut.

She walks out in tank top and Star Spangled short shorts.

(I’m a Yankee doodle dandy, I can see your underpanties.)

I wish people would stop with their stupid ideas.

Our bodies hide secrets that show up each summer.

I have a scar on the fat of my palm

That glows when the fireworks blow up the sky.

It’s hot. It’s stupid. It scares the dog.

I pretty much hate the Fourth of July.