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red truck green tea

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caffeine bubbling through our veins
we climb onto the roof of my dad’s red
pickup truck only feet
from the ongoing traffic
and we wave our banner high
and scream
until our voices turn hoarse
and we raise our arms
united
and sing
we laugh
we live
together
connected
seven children
crying one message
that yes
we are old enough to understand
at four years
at seven years
we wail
our crayon bulletin
and its slanting letters proclaim
one word
printed in green wax
peace
our hands held high
in their two-fingered
salutation





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