the new road
emily says dying is a wild night and a new road.
i say dying is sort of like walking too close to the rails when the chicago el whizzes by--whooosh!
dying tastes like a quiet color
in explosive rainbow proportions.
i hear the clacking coming,
i feel the rush of wind,
i touch the steamy air
just before that silver bullet train starts whizzing toward me.
i wonder if the actual moment of death feels like being a rider on the train watching the people stare as i pass by them.
i wonder if death feels like new life.
i wonder if becalmanddie would make a good slogan on a billboard advertising dying.
perhaps emily is right after all;
perhaps there should be a billboard sign
lit in blinking neon lights,
guiding the way home on the new road (which just happens to pass a tad too close to the Chicago el tracks)--whooosh!
—Carla Jeanne Picklo Jordan