The Seats Are Different

I was sitting here just watching caterpillars
When this big truck just barreled down on my night.
A lightning bug guided me back to safety and I longed for home.

When I walked up to the door a hand crept out
And handed me a flower which had an inscription.
It read: "There is a land that is clear.
Can you see it, my dear?
It is fair
No worry, no care
And all the Cool Whip is free."

Then a noose swung in front of me and
A pitch fork stuck in the road drove deeper
Until it scorched a hole of purple light.

Sweat beads turned into centipedes.
I swatted at bats the size of mosquitoes.
The purple crevice gaped wider and the smell
Of lilacs and beer ambled down the path.

My arms danced wildly and I was knocked on my rear.
My eyes turned to stone.
I grasped for my cell phone.
And I darted away into a patch of blue.

But all that was last night.
They think I'm crazy but I know I'm right.

Now, I do notice that the seats are different on my porch.
And I stay there no longer when I'm at
Home.