Fourth of July on the Clarion River by Greg Clary

There was a time when 

 anchoring in the cove
and watching the town’s fireworks display,

while crowded stem to stern,
drinking and socializing
as darkness approached,

was as traditional
on the Fourth of July
as chilled strawberry pretzel salad.

Not this year.
Having drunks whiz fire flowers
across my bow,

listening to Luke Bryan 
blare bro-country
from a dozen ski boats

with young dudes pissing,
old women flashing, and 
freaked out lap-dogs barking

through the flash-bangs, 
arid smoke, and
the bottle rockets’ red glare

was more than my
post-pandemic self
could abide.

I’m a Yankee Doodle Dandy
A Yankee Doodle do or die.
Red-headed nephew of my Uncle Sam

Born on the Fourth of July.

Greg Clary is Professor Emeritus of Rehab and Human Services at Clarion University, Clarion Pa. His poems have appeared in The Watershed Journal and North/South Appalachia.

His photographs have been published in The Sun Magazine, Looking at Appalachia, and The Watershed Journal.

He resides in Sligo, Pennsylvania and is a Son of Turkey Creek, West Virginia