Firework Spectacluar

Tonight I was treated to an impromptu firework spectacular, no doubt launched from a river barge for some event at the Hilton or the Battleship. As odd as fireworks in October might seem, it made me smile. I've seen this firework display in October before - which inspired me to write a poem that eventually became the short story "Fireworks on the Fourth." There were two particularly eerie ones tonight - one that looked strangely like the Dark Mark in red and one that was at least 50 spinners that sounded like ghostly screams. Kudzu found them all particularly distressing and hid under the daybed in the living room.

Most of you have read it, but in honor of the occasion, here is the opening scene from the story that reads like de ja vu to me at the moment.

October
I called but I hung up before your answering machine picked up so I didn’t have to hear your voice. It was still strange to me, your absence, not being able to bear the sound of your voice. I wanted you to hear the anomalous explosions of fireworks popping off over the river in October. I watched them between the old oak trees in the backyard, feet propped on the wrought iron railing. The scream of a spinner broke through the cool air and gold sparks split through the stars.

I thought about going inside, and then I heard a remnant of your voice from July saying, “Wait. We can’t leave until the finale,” your eyes like marbles. That day at the park was the last time that we were together pretending to be happy. When the finale came, you put your hand to your chest to feel the vibrations of one boom after another. You left the next day.

From the porch I watched the finale, hysterical combustion of color and sound. I stood and put my hand to my chest, but I was too far away to feel them inside me. I saw only the spindles of smoke drifting across the sky like ghosts.