Rockaway Beach Fireworks

Six months later you appeared, you on the white steed. My fingers tingle; my eyes alight on billboards as tall as the skyscrapers piercing the night sky. Even now, three hundred miles away, I still feel the pumping adrenaline rushing through me. I try to piece them together but they burst open like tiny pieces of paper fluttering in the wind, each piece dancing and swirling around my out-stretched arms pyrotechnics.

One resonates like smoke damage from a fire. Leaving behind a residue thick and sticky as tar bottle rockets. &13; &13; Our new two family house is towering before us still smelling of fresh paint. Vector+fireworks. We had goes at writing our names but the shutter didn't stay open long enough. County officials pushing for ban on all rockaway beach fireworks. Street musicians tell their stories in three-piece bands to small groups of people that stop to listen. Taxicabs honk, breaks of delivery trucks squeak, people rush by me laughing, holding hands bottle rockets.

When I shut my eyes I recount Times Square flashing fluorescent blue, orange and red like a strobe light, a giant disco ball suspended above the city. I felt as though I had been sleeping for a lifetime waiting for your coming to awaken me. A home as lifeless and unchanging as a picture in a realtors brochure. I am struck by the absurdity of the steel bars, protecting a life, a home, unworthy of theft. It looks out of place among the rundown project buildings and the boarded up bodegas. The house warned me with each creak of the stairs and groan of the doors. &13; &13; I step out from Penn Station into Madison Square Garden. I wish she could stay with us forever! bottle rockets.

The music dancing onto the streets, a rhythm I am walking to pyrotechnics. The mannequins in the storefronts of Bloomingdales and Sakss adorned with Gucci Italian silk scarves and Herrara evening gowns sparkling with sequins of copper and silver. My clumsy fingers swipe at the air. With the small town girls dream of marrying and moving to the Big Apple web. Your face illuminating and disappearing as we put another mile between the City and us web. And up the stairs in the master bedroom in one of its two walk-in closets still smelling of fresh Taupe paint is a small cardboard box full of artifacts. The excitement and rush of emotions slip through my fingers like grains of sand. All in all it was a wonderful weekend, Now I just need to recover!!!. My breathing became faster and stifled, a lump grew and swelled in my throat, my skin tingled with anxiety.

weekend update. The tighter I hold on the more escapes me firecrackers. Felix Brasso has added a photo to the pool: bottle rockets. &13; &13; These thoughts weigh on my mind, still. And then, I would hear the click of the deadbolt, the pounding of your feet up the stairs, the sound of the refrigerator door opening and closing and the TV coming on and shutting off pyrotechnics. I see the souvenir shops with their miniature Statues of Liberty and I heart NY tee shirts in every size and color.