The streets I walk 

were once inhabited by dinosaurs, 
tall as the trees in the yard.
Their bones lay below eons of soil;
they have a graveyard, underneath 
every church on every street corner.
Did they have dinosaur funerals
or celebrate dinosaur birthdays?
Do they have a special place 
over the rainbow bridge with 
the pet dogs and cats and lizards?
I wonder if the dinosaurs were scared
of their imminent death, 
like I’m scared of mine too.
I hope Dinosaur Heaven 
is just as beautiful as my own.