whatever it was, it’s dead now.
it could have been a raccoon, a
dog, maybe a possum. flat as a
pancake. run over fifty times or
more. i wonder if it knew it was
going to die. did it even know
what death is. did it know it
would never be hungry again.
a flash of lightning wiggles
across the sky. “like a rolling
stone” blasts from the radio.
i recite my grocery list over
and over. i don’t dare forget
anything. could be weeks ’till
i get back this way. winter can
be bad. i’m not hungry anymore.