THE YELLOW LIGHT
that lined the hallway
buzzed like the lightning
bugs me and Shawn
used to catch when we were kids.
We scooped them
into washed-out mayo
jars four or five at a time.
Shawn would twist
the lid tight, and the
two of us would sit
on a bench and watch
them fly around,
bumping into each other,
trapped, until
one by one their lights went out.