celebrating another fourth

i knew i could pull it off working straight ahead
through the night and daylight hours
coffee and well-fed skipping bed
through the bombing and all the confusions
taking only a quick lettuce salad
with small yellow & red tomatoes
with pesto and green shadows
of extra virgin olive oil
i still can feel the recoil of an M16 machine gun
see sparks above the wall
celebrating yet another fourth
just before the sticky night fall
under banner headlines no longer crying
the bye bye by lines
i'm skipping an invitation
so i can carry a wounded child
to the nearest medical aid station
where i can continue my less than social ways
hiding in the haze
of an incomplete life
but my work is slowly getting better
each and every single polished letter
standing alone on a public stage
like a spotlight on a naked page
surviving through each day
like a madly whirling rotor blade
drawing a picture of machine powered flight
sketching the blue of distant Saigon
tossing back a glass of the finest French red wine
i know there will be time for friends and family
on the fifteenth or the seventh
when the writing disappears
it casually reappears
as all smoke needs go somewhere
said The New York Times but
i'm on a methodical tear
a big bender
on another bridge
a knife-edged ridge
leading me to a perfect body of water
and near the summit
in a tiny bed of the wildest bravest flowers
i can worry about an afternoon storm
even as the sky remains clear
since it doesn't matter if
i've already taken in the view.
and you?