it'll be fun

I warn my neighbor
about going up into a hot air balloon.
the colorful striped
ones with a huge
basket to hold twenty
lost souls.
I show him
pictures of them
caught in the power lines,
or trees,
dangling in flames,
the bodies tumbling
to the hard earth,
cameras in hand,
the horror, but do they
listen, no.
they go, they ask me to go
too.
they tell me how much fun
it will be to be high up
in the air.
they were good neighbors.
I miss them.