(no subject)
I killed a raccoon today.
It'd been so long since I'd seen a raccoon.
I forgot how big they are.
Its death was an accident, really.
Driving home from a human job making human money,
Serving human humans and crying babies,
It bolted- a blur of fur across the pavement.
I stopped to look at the blood on my tires.
It was late- I couldn't see a thing.
It was odd, the feeling I got
While thinking of what I would have done years ago
I wanted to double back and cure its pain with death-
Re run my tires across its back.
I hadn't the back bone, though.
Who am I to decide what dies and what doesn't?
Besides, I could have sworn feeling its life dwindle
And rush into my body just before I pulled over.
Perhaps a piece of it remains in me or my car.
Maybe I was just shaken as I walked back.
I thought for a moment and drove off.