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I was lighting a smoke, a micro-second
faster than I could think of heaven
he shouldn’t have run into the road
why did he not look both ways
call the insurance company about the car
I’m not allowed to go to the funeral
I see the cigarette ash glow in the gathering dark
I never noticed the boy but merely jumped for the thud.
thud his first grade, second grade, high school dances, sex, drugs and whatever
his friends will celebrate the new century with cavalcades of fuzzy-wuzzy
look: enjoying a fine spring evening, whiff of new green leaves
a limp rag-doll throws himself at you, is that good?
college girls still have nice legs, planes land and take off
you could take one into the sunset
but you’ll never get away far enough.