That summer of 1976 the bicentennial celebrations burned with fireworks and hot dogs, background to my quiet high school graduation followed by that unforgettable July 4th at the lake when I smoked weed and took a chance with my first guy, discovering his lemony taste, his smell of baby powder and worn leather, and how he felt as vibrant as the thrum of a gunned engine, brought me happiness in a world where I’d always felt left out, had never made a connection, had given up dreaming, but on that silvery evening at twilight I promised Ben I’d return in October from state university to see him and in a flurry I pulled out in front of an oncoming truck where I was barely scratched but Ben didn’t survive, after that I never made it to university and it was years before I could stand to touch another guy, even then it was never the same.
Jeff Harvey is the founding editor of Gooseberry Pit Lit. His work appears on the Wigleaf Top 50 Longlist and in many litmags including trampset, Bull, Ghost Parachute, Moon City Review and Madrid Review.