by Mather Schneider
and the day sticks to me
like dust on sweat.
I walk the trash and tumbleweed streets
of downtown Tucson
at 3 o'clock p.m.
July 4th.
The fireworks are prepared on the
mountain
and children practice looking up
though it hurts the eyes
the sky and sun so piercing
but never perfect
always waiting and leading
into the next sky
and the next sun.
I am a different person now that I was
when I woke up this morning
alone and half buried
in the wash
and I will be another man
when I get to where I am
walking to
through this heat like the tips
of matches under my tongue
and when the night finally falls
like a false mercy
I will find a place to sit
at the foot of the mountain
and no one will
know who I am
when the darkness
explodes.
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