Caught a snapshot of strangers
Huddled on the edge of chaos
A power pole vigil
Replacing withered roses and
Wiping mud splatters from a million tires
Off photographs of a smiling teenager
Holding her wide-eyed infant
Shouldn’t this ceremony occur
Somewhere beyond the blast
of angry honks and zombie eyes
Where manicured lawns
Are dotted with elegant stone reminders
Where flowers wilt undisturbed
Shouldn’t this family be blessed
With the fragrance of cherry blossoms
Instead of burnt rubber and exhaust
Think about the odds
A final breath in the arms
Of familiar faces
Comforting hands
Calm whispered words
A life wrapped up and
Tucked in white sheets with quiet dignity
What percent of life is afforded such luxury
It is the cosmic lottery winners
Who aren’t slain and devoured
Starved to death
Stepped on
Skeletonized by hideous disease
Shot to pieces or
Simply part of every season’s mass execution
Usually
The survivors just get to deal
With the unseemly location
And timing of someone’s daughter
Plastered around the steering wheel
Of a mini-van
On some random Tuesday night
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