The Fifth

On the day after the Fourth
Burnt paper and cardboard frittered upon the breeze
Sand and grit stinging the odd bruised and battered knee
As revelers stirred within their makeshift beds
Blinking groggily with ill tasting mouths
Shading their eyes and holding their heads

The trash can that held the remains of the alcoholic concoction
Was melted straight through on the bottom
From the unyielding strength of the mysterious brew
An ever expanding puddle extending for seemingly acres
With seagulls lying passed out from exposure
Their beaks turned from orange-yellow to bright squashed smurf blue

A bloody once-white tee shirt lay alone in the sun
That dried brown crust a reminder of firework safety
Marking the spot where Whats His Nuts lost two fingers around midnight
Trying to show off with a homemade cherry bomb
Forming a memory that is thankfully blurry and fading further
As the late breakfast call of the Taco Truck breaks the mid morning calm

The tinkle tinkle of those bells
Rushing feet
Rustling dirty sheets
Cling ping clangy of money being spent
A world restarted after over celebration
Of yet another Fourth of July sped on by