Fireworks
Last week
we saw the fireworks
from the top of Federal Hill.
Surrounded by crowds
on the hot summer night.
And there were pinks and blues
and golds,
explosions over the harbor,
and we found our way home
through the concrete city,
past homeless sleeping on park benches,
kids screaming at bus stops
and we waited on the steps,
close and tired and sweaty.
Tonight
we made our bodies fireworks
passion and motion and energy.
In the quiet of a bedroom
in the air conditioned night.
The pink of your skin, blue of your eyes,
gold of your hair.
Explosions of ecstasy,
and we found our way to heaven
through a shared climax,
as the music fluttered through the air
and we talked into the night
and we rested in bed,
close and tired and sweaty.
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