Independence Day

Independence Day


In a rush, we used an assigned parking space,
And upon our return, the displaced stranger
Said, “That’s my spot, you jerk.” His rage
Surprised me, but I didn’t sense any danger

Until he took five steps toward us. My wife
And sons were suddenly targets, so I knew
I had to protect them. Maybe he had a knife
Or gun. Maybe he was crazy. But his mood

Changed when I stepped out of the shadows.
I’m a big guy, all shoulders and gut and thighs,
And I was not afraid. I grew up trading blows
With bullies, and the man quickly realized

That I would fight hard. Chastened, he retreated
Back toward his car, and with a softer tone,
Said, “Next time, you better leave me a note.”
My anger bloomed as my fear receded,

So I stepped fast toward him, and reveled
At his sudden meekness. “Just leave it alone,”
I said, possessed by some childhood devil
Who wanted me to snap and burn the man’s bones.

“Stop it,” my wife said. “Just get in the car.”
She and my sons hurried into their seats,
But I thought I would be admitting defeat
If I did the same. I wouldn’t let down my guard

For a moment. I would kill this stranger
And eat his lungs, stomach, heart, thumbs, and eyes.
I became the one in love with danger.
Ashamed, I shouted, “Have a safe Fourth of July!”

And looked at the man for the first time.
He was rude, Napoleonic, and weak.
Just back from work, he didn’t want to fight.
He wanted to sit on his couch and watch TV.

The man gave me the finger, but I just waved
And climbed into our car. Contrite and dazed,
I mumbled an apology to my wife,
“I thought the man was threatening our lives.”

“I know,” she said. “You had to back him off.
And you did that. You proved you were tough.
But then you got mean.” And yes, it was shitty.
I took the man’s space and his dignity.

Is it surprising that I know how to be cruel?
My entire career is based on revenge.
I think of my sons, so tender and new,
And how they’d witnessed me walk to the edge

And nearly begin the long, harrowing drop
Before I heeded their mother’s call to stop.
I know my boys had so many questions
But I failed to give them this lesson:

Sons, what I did to that man was wrong;
There can be that much weakness in being strong.



Sherman Alexie