Road Kill Poem by Adam Hoagland

Road Kill



Stiffening and gorged on fouled air,
Stubbornly occupying a squatter's rights plot
of tar-snake tempted asphalt,
Setting to a fetid pudding
with the August day.
Skewed out of true,
grisly animoid origami
abandoned by the master
in mid-fold.
Evincing its terminal steps to the veering and straddling onrushers
with a tell-tale dotted line of crimson and matted fur,
like a hemorhaging 'Family Circus' child
failing once again to take
the shortest path between those two points
of 'existance' and 'display.'
Rigor vigorously extending one rigid paw
skyward in silent salute to der fuhrer,
or whatever cause will make initiates
of the recently deposed.

Memories of artfully dodging traffic cones
return all at once as I diligently avert myself from mortality's wave,
and realize I'm eternally thankful
that, should my own end find me similarly plastered
on this ebon mobius strip that I explore on two wheels,
a well-drilled army of professional moppers
will be ready at hand,
with flashing lights and matching suits,
to run through their drill of shock and urgency at my traumatic exit
and clean up sweetly afterwards.

- ARH 9/23/10

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