the third of July

July 3rd

by JM

 

the third of july

act’s like it’s beautiful

but it’s a lie

the day is as lifeless

as the day before

and brings the same

dull ache

the same void

of head splitting consciousness

 

nothing looks alluring

when you’ve watched the nights pass by

and the suns rise

for a week

 

and the third day of July

is here and I am a quarter century

old

and already the black hair

on my head has grayed

and the time

show’s under my eyes

like rings on an old tree

 

we wait through horrid winters

to feel the relief

of the summer sun

 

we pretend this will bring us happiness.

if nothing else

if not God

if not Drugs

if not Sex

 

the third day of July brings only

heat and humidity

a monotone humming

of power lines

and the heavy feeling

of being uncomfortable.

a dreadful haze

coming in through the window

the sound of police sirens

it flood’s my apartment

louder now are

the arguing of Spanish couples

more fierce

something about the heat

dogs are more angry.

 

girls wear their dresses

and strut down the board walk

like human prey

of lusting primal minds of man

 

here it is, the third of July.

it’s all just about routine now.

 

the drunkard drinks

the junkie withdraws

the kids have sex and

smoke weed at the beach

 

a stabbing, a shooting

a terrifying mess

I try to avoid it all

like the undead avoids

the day

 

flags wave in the air

we  show our fair weathered pride

for a country that is crumbling

 

like the heart’s of our youth.

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