I watch the fluorescent flash of the open sign
as I contemplate the meaning of life
Rain starts to pelt down harshly on the windshield
washing away the sign in a colorful stream
Though all else seems to be against it
it continues to flash
I silently will it to pull through
Then the flashing stops as abruptly as it began
I am almost offended
It offered no fight for survival, no retort
        
         The slam of the car door
         and the greasy smell of gas station food
         bring me back to the present

My brother offers the dampened brown paper bag towards me
I take it reluctantly, suddenly at loss for appetite
The ancient truck manages to roar to life yet again

       My eyes relentlessly follow the sign
       as we pull out of the parking lot
       searching for a sign of hope, anything.

As if some higher power had been listening to my innermost thoughts
the sign flickers once or twice more before taking its final breath