Viewing

It was the summer of The Big Sleep
and as I motored home one night
cruising at a modest seventy
a lightning bug went SPLAT
against my windshield
and it's fading neon glow
became a star I tried to follow
to a better place

A haven far from the
errant expectations
and dismal self doubts
that constantly gnaw away
at our shrinking spirits
like the greedy pincers
of a curious little bug

I knew that there would be
another funeral soon
and though I dreaded mourning
I thought about that
better place
and secretly hoped
that someone's dying light
could show me the way.