—IT’S PRETTY COLD FOR JULY

 

Ice

 

I’d had a DUI, no two, but 

I wasn’t as drunk as the rest, 

so they sent me to fetch more ice 

before the fireworks got loaded and shot off, 

it being the 4^th and how our country 

was on the right track now. 

At the store, most people also

looked a little liquored up, 

grinning as if it was Halloween 

or their birthday instead of the 4^th, 

wearing red, white and blue, 

flag shirts, stars and stripes 

on their caps and shorts, 

some with a bold, patriotic tattoo. 

I got three bags of ice, a lottery ticket 

and two more cases of Modelo, 

my new favorite since what Budweiser did. 

In my truck, where you turn to go right or left, 

I noticed the Mexican woman wasn’t there 

with her kid like they always were, 

actresses the two of them, 

beggars and illegals more than likely, 

but their sign was still there, 

hanging crooked off the curb. 

I don’t know why, but I flipped it the bird

as I pulled away laughing my ass off,

though for some reason I 

thought about it later on 

just as the sky started lighting up, 

screaming in colors that were new to me.