your neighbor
loves the fourth of july.
he's already sewing
together
the shirt and pants
he will wear,
sewn from a large
flag of stars and stripes.
the grill will go.
he'll have rockets
and firecrackers,
sparklers and roman
candles.
band aids and Neosporin
at the ready.
a bucket of water,
leaves of aloe.
he'll stack beer on ice.
blow music from the window,
the speakers
turned out for all
to enjoy.
he asks you six or seven
times if you will go.
and you say yes each time.
you wouldn't miss it
for the world.
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