The Feeling After Fireworks
Your attention
fades like a
firework- fizzling
out
at the end of the night.
A trickle of light,
a few pops,
and then it's
spent.
The crowd releases a sigh in unity
when the show is over--
packing up the picnic baskets
and grassy blankets,
rolling the strollers, gathering the children,
the Tupperware, plastic utensils,
tossing out the burnt sparklers
and melted citronella candles,
forced to say goodbye to family friends
as the July sky melts to black.
That feeling in their guts--
that initial quick sadness,
is forgotten so simply,
as the night ends, their glances to the sky
as short-lived
as your eyes on me.
Braking
Lost animals,
lost causes
roaming the streets,
homeless and wandering.
Darting out right
in front of my bumper.
Helpless and unsure,
they are fragile.
My wheels squeaking as I slam on the brakes,
preserving vulnerable lives with one swift movement.
The wise say you aren't supposed to brake for anything.
The likelihood is higher that whatever you avoid will be slaughtered
at your feeble attempt to save.
Recognize that you are not a superhero.
Let dying things die.
I can't help but falter at the sight of such weakened spirits,
pathetic as they may be. I carry the paradox,
much like I broke for you.
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