Sometimes we wonder what the light looks like pressed up against other lights,

aghast, covered with but a single blanket.

Brighter lights,

glowing pink in the bank,

standing in line….

Sleeping comfortably in a lonely , humming hamlet,

among the very best fireflies,

among the other lovely fireflies,

still glowing pink in the bank….though

still in line.. though

still glowing pink, even in disintegration, though.

Bowing out and ultimately discarded with the plastic bags and driftwood

and freezer bags too,

In the midst of this purge ,

After the moths have gotten hold, ,,,

We wonder what the sound sounds like pressed up against other sounds

and whether we will take part, or whether we will sleep,

and why we didn’t hear the moths chewing holes in EVERYTHING.