BENGALMAN

No more fireworks?

No: out of stock.
On the way home,
he stops at a shop.
Shrug at the counter
quiet sad juncture.

He says
You too?
jocularly intoned
blank stare
uneasy smile
ten thirty pee em.
There are no fireworks.

Neighbours lights are on.
Maybe, yes.
Sturdy tentative knock
Confused red cheeks.
Happy scarf, mud.
We just used ours up,
sorry.

Trudge, trudge, trudg, trud, tru, tr, t, t, t.

The backdoor is slightly
open
chill reminds him of hedgehogs
exploding gut rupture
of evaporating yellow green
Smoke stank, coughing smell
the doorway
girl boy
sparklers.

No fireworks.

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