A job that lasted only days,
a memory that lasts forever.
Driving home, a line of cars paused ahead.
All headed nowhere, brake lights like exploding stars.
I’m going to miss my favorite show.
Men wearing badges and blue hats,
standing in a parking lot,
swarm an empty car from another state.
What are they looking for?
As I wait, the radio keeps me company.
A singer wails, “Is this it?”
Forever goes by,
light bulb stars implode
and off we go.
My eyes catch a blur of waving white sheet,
a fallen ghost under the highway overpass.
After music comes information.
A kind sounding woman tells me
of a man from somewhere else
who jumped off a bridge tonight.
I missed my favorite show,
becoming a bystander to a sad man giving up.
Is this it?