Joyous bombs burst in the air,
making the ocean—lapping
at our feet
like constant, tiny, wet kisses—
turn green, blue red, even orange.
light the way.
Acrid smoke fills my nostrils,
even here on the far shore.
The other couples play on the beach.
Children and adults watching
with equal fervor. The awe on their faces
usually reserved for concerts,
or football games.
They stand, and dance, in the green water.
We all hope the new year
will be better.
Our hope is immediate, like the sunbursts
in the midnight sky. The past year lingers
like the smoke from each firework.
It quickly dissipates in the warm winds.
We end a year with explosions,
we begin a year with explosions.
The old memories purged
in the first of the year/end/start.