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It was July 4th,
and the sun was beating on my children,
as they sat along the side of the road.

On the dead sand,
their feet danced upon the fire,
and the heat that sucked at the air even as it rose.

An angry woman,
slumped into the front seat,
had her eyes to the distance where she wanted to go.

I could see her,
calculating disadvantages,
weighing the emotional baggage that she had to tow.

Busted knuckles,
and blood upon the lug nuts,
a spare tire round the middle and one out on the street.

Mouth full of trouble,
and my life is on fire,
burning down all around me in a puddle at my feet.

When you lose love,
and the sun is beating off the asphalt,
on a broken down car while freedom pulses through your veins.

Independence Day,
and all the kids are crying,
as you head on down the highway while I’m calling out your name