My memory, per
family tradition,
of the 4th of July
always involved
sticking sparklers
into potatoes.
There were numerous pleasures involved.
(This, of course,
was meant as
a precaution, so
not to harm our
soft little hands
so close to a fire.
We never had any need to be afraid, though.)
First, there was
the exact pleasure
of pushing the
metal stick into
the firm yet inviting
potato, a piercing that
still produces pleasure.
This was something that stuck with me.
Second, there was
the idea of sticking
something man-
made into something
flesh, of the earth
something that was.
The difference being in the level of effort involved.
Finally, the sheer
light that extended
onto the potato
itself, something
that made me see
it as something else.
Something that I never thought about, until now.
