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October 17, 2010

Innocence is embodied by a child
lying on a blanket
with jumphouse-flushed cheeks.

The thunder,
I felt it even inside me.

I jump up,
cover my ears.
The sky was clear,
the stars were right there.

This wasn’t thunder.

I look at my parents for reassurance.
Their faces would say everything.

But their skin,
it was bathed in red and blue light.
They were smiling, clapping, happy.

I look up.
The sky was on fire.
Every color of fire–
not just orange.

Whistles like I think shooting stars would sound like
if they weren’t so far away .
Explosions of incandescent sparkles.

Sky blue had always been my favorite color,
but not anymore.
I never knew the sky could be this color.

The sky curved like the globe in my bedroom,
the one my grandpa gave me.
I held out my hands.

Maybe I could catch the glittering pieces
they fell right above me,
trickling down the black night sky
like condensation on the cold surface of night.

Inevitable frustration.
The embers never reached my small hands.
But maybe
they were also like shooting stars.

Far away,
just more real.
I could smell the sulfuric smoke they left in their wake.

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