Fireworks, 2003

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Driving home on I-55, we argued

while queen anne’s lace and black-eyed susans

blurred past through my tears.  Opposites attract

but so often our differences polarize.

I watched the mile markers and counted

our opposites:  extrovert/introvert,

strong/needy, stoic/emotional.

This week when he lit the fireworks

in the driveway, I covered my ears

against the screaming missles,

his loud favorites.

But he drew me close

while I watched city fireworks

bloom like chrysanthemums.

When he yelled with frustration

in the vehicle I couldn’t escape

I wondered how long we will last.

Longing filled me

for the kind of affection

Tim McGraw has for Faith Hill,

the way they complement

one another in their real-life romance.

I hid that hope inside my silence,

waiting until we entered our apartment

and laid down together in the late afternoon.

Finally we created new life

from our ashes.

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