I The Titanic Strike A Neon Iceberg

Across the street from our local grocery store
there’s a tanning salon with a neon sign
in a yellow, orange, green and blue design.
Bright, it’s more than neon. It’s neon galore.

One night I wanted to talk with a friend more,
maybe find a place where we could sit and dine.
We stood outside the grocery store. The bright shine
across the street opened the night like a door.

I asked, “Is that a restaurant or a bar?”
“It’s a tanning salon,” my companion said.
I said, “You know, I knew that. Wishful thinking.”

Yellow, orange, green and blue. Bright lights, not far . . .
I yearned so much to walk through that door instead
of going home. Neon. I went home, sinking.