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Firecrackers My childhood favorite was the one that popped high in the air and dropped a little plastic paratrooper. Hard to see and harder to catch, it drifted toward the cotton patch amid a burst of blue, electrical confetti. As blizzard-thick mosquitoes mesmerized me with their hum, the paratrooper landed in the loam, magnificently mine—like burning words I’d aimed at heaven, come back as a poem. 3 ...

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