the old lights

by on September 29, 2018 :: 0 comments

They came from all the boat docks, by the water that grew smaller each day
As it conceded to this particular East Texas July heat
We grew stronger until the fall
Walking barefoot painfully on hot asphalt and sticker-filled yards and sharp gravel

It was only at night they would come, when we turned on the light
We didn’t know then what it was we were doing
Gathering all those small creatures like the moon, they know about the moon
Light, not like our light
Closer than a million years of evolution told them it would be

The old tennis court, we turned on the lights
Old lights, taking a long time to be light
Soon an adult would come and tell us to get outta there, to turn them off

They would not think about the thousands of tiny fragile carcasses, at our feet
All the mayflies from by the lake
Living their entire life in one day, they had flown to us
Most nights
It was normal to not see them
Until their ritual of death

I would think about a superior being, seeing me for the first time as I died
Seeing my life only then
As one day, so short
Wondering how much of the universe was never understood, to me
I knew the mayflies were glad to have lived
I was glad too, to have lived so long already
If I was a mayfly it would have been 8am-ish of my life then, or sometime in the early
morning
Not very long after I was born
I knew these things

Some days are much longer than others, to the mayfly

editors note: In our larval stage we are more adept at decipherment. – mh clay

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