Michael Lee Johnson

July 4th, 2020, Itasca, Illinois (V3)
(Hamilton Lakes)

Stone caved dreams for men
past and gone, freedom fighters
blow past wind and storms.
Patriotism scared, etched in the face of cave walls.
There are no cemeteries here for the old,
vacancies for the new.
Americans incubate chunks
of patriotism over the few centuries,
a calling into the wild, a yell forked stab me.
Today happiness is a holiday.
Rest in peace warriors, freedom fighters,
those simply made a mistake.
I gaze out my window to Hamilton Lakes
half-drunk with sparkling wine,
seeing lightning strike ends,
sparklers, buckets full of fire.
Light up than dark sky, firecrackers.
Filmmakers, old rock players, fume-filled skies,
the butt of dragonflies.
Patriotism shakes, rocks, jerks
across my eye’s freedom locked
in chains, stone-carved dreams.

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