*














*

Fourth of July 1996


*
When I was six even the city lights
looked like fireworks.
Fireworks
filled the whole sky
and left the scent of dragons.

When I was eight my mother
showed me that we two,
and only we, of all the family,
could take our glasses off
and have a city full of jewels.

I am 47 in two weeks, and tonight
I watch the fireworks from Beacon Hill
and the man I fell in love with because on our first date
he grabbed my hand and skipped down to Pike Place Market
is rubbing the back of my neck restlessly
wanting to move on.

I take my glasses off and show him
how I can see jewels that he can't.
I watch the fireworks
and chant under my breath:
*
"Fire Tree,
come to me;
I want to be
a Fire Tree."





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