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The explosions of fireworks in the sky
and the bonfire heat on your cheek.
Rockport. Crowds. The fourth of July.
Crammed together. Too loud to speak.

People. Prizes. Festivities. Lights.
And the marching music playing for hours.
Orange moon softly pulling the tides.
There was no seclusion for lovers.

But once the darkness veiled the coast,
on the shore, with a towel beneath us,
we made love, with our ankles exposed,
undisturbed by the thirsty mosquitoes.