Like Flies

Like flies, we our drawn towards our own demise
by bright lights. When I left the city,

for a vacation in the mountains
I came to miss these images of death: the neon signs,
telling me how to live my life; traffic lights,
keeping things in order; and the street

lamps to reveal the secrets of the night,

I knew I was being called, and realized

that there is no escape. I now know

why they suite people up before burying them.