When I was a kid, we blew up a fish.
We stuck a bottle rocket into its still breathing mouth and lit it.
I don’t think we really knew what would happen but when it didn’t die,
we were more than surprised.
Later that day I set off M80s and more bottle rockets with a lit cigarette.
I was too young to play with matches or a lighter.
I kinda hoped I would blow my fingers off for the fish.
But I only got grounded.
And told that there must’ve been a black cloud over me on that day.
It was the last day before school and the breeze that waltzed through the screen and past the shade in my room calmed the guilt in my heart.
The kids reveling and laughing in absolute joy on their final night of summer freedom didn’t.
I can still smell the cool night air and hear those conversations that I longed to be a part of like they happened yesterday.