You poured a bowl
of fireworks for breakfast.
This diet explains
your star spangled disposition.
Your glorious flag
leans upon your shoulder
as if seeking comfort
like a child.
In solidarity, I let you
finger paint the stars and stripes
on my left cheek
but refused to wear
an Uncle Sam suit
to visit your homing pigeon roost.
I checked the freshness date
of your boxed pyrotechnics
and found the red
had an earlier expiration
than either the white
or the blue.
copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney
Umflop 