route 6

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.

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