Your idea of a Grand Finale is a waste of my tax dollars.

Call me an un-American grouch
but fireworks make me sad.
And no, it's not because
my dolt of a father brought
the dog my parents had bought for me
as a present for my fifth birthday
to the Bear Mountain fireworks
where the second shot had terrified
him so much that he bolted hard enough
to break his leash and run away
never to be seen again.
It really has very little to do with that.
Promise. Swear. Cross my heart and hope to...

It's more of the fact that those quiet, reflective
moments shared by some of us present during
the celebratory spectacle of light and sound
are generally a farce. We sit and think
of all the promises made and broken
to and by ourselves, respectively.
We imagine a beauty that isn't really there.
We wait until it's over to look down at our watches
and complain that the show was six minutes
shorter than last year's. And then we walk home
pretending not to be disillusioned.

But the real kicker is how eager we are
to pull the people under our arms closer to ourselves
as if that'll keep them from repeating the process
that we've come to know so well.
Sure, they'll be there for that first year's
fireworks display. The two of you will hold each other
tightly and think of how fortunate you are to be together
and how many more fireworks shows you hope
to enjoy in the holy presence of one another.

Then a year goes by: lo and behold, you're
watching the damn fireworks yet again. This time, however
reality's set in; those little flaws you used to love so dearly
during the honeymoon phase are now the hideous idiosyncrasies
that drive you to the point of insanity. You both know
you probably won't stay together much longer, let alone
forever, but you may make it a few months longer. Then
one of you will wisen up and do what's right for both parties.
It's just a matter of when.

And then comes the third fireworks display in the vicious cycle--
the one where you're either alone and questioning
how many of those statements were lies, or if you're lucky
you've got someone else under that needy arm of yours
as you're wondering if you can somehow manage
to not blow it for once. Either way it's depressing.
Either way you should probably just stay home next time.
They won't hold it against you forever.
Can't you fake a cold or something?

Benji, if you're out there, you had the right idea.