I watch the fireworks from the stairs of the fire escape

feeling the red, white, and blue shadows
pool in my crosslegged lap. Faraway gusts of awed laughter ripple through me. I wonder if the escape door has locked, or if the sirens are going off somewhere in the building. 

I don't really care. The flashes rear against the sharp silhouttes
of the trees and the night trembles in response. Sometimes 
I cover my ears.
Sometimes I just laugh and ask if
I am alone, if I'm cold, if the railing will leave marks on my skin. 
I guess that's the point, really, 
asking the truth to reveal itself to you in brief
bursts of light, and
once everything has been rinsed off
you are allowed to begin anew, like
the phoenix that emerges from the ashes, like
the sun that rises
again and 



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