Blue and white
Flimsy plastic lines
Woven together, grated
Down in a row
Foldout chairs on the
Asphalt, yellow and dotted
Line of Main St.
Small town Mayville, NY.
July Fourth, it is a Monday
This year, not the last
When chapel bells rang
Rhythms conflicting
Brass bells clanging
With the toots of the
Sirens ready for the Parade.
Small town not lacking
Conviviality, when the
Shriners spin by motors
Churning humming red
Race strips running 13
To the American flag.
The sky blue as ever
Our national ceiling
Air crisp with excitement
Clears itself for the day.
My uncle’s throaty
Cackle erupts beside me-
Aunt Judy giggles and
They laugh it all off.
My eyes aren’t as glassy
As they were years before
The festivities aging-
The ostentation unappealing-
No longer the best country
No longer top of the world.
Laura Haskin is a senior at Friends Select School in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Her creative nonfiction and poetry has been published in Philadelphia Stories and The Bell Literary Magazine. In her spare time, she enjoys cooking and functions as the founder of a food and travel blog, The Cedar Kitchenette.