Roadkill: The Haiku

Poor things doesn't know his days arenumbered.

Poor thing doesn’t know his days are numbered.

Roadkill everywhere.
And so I’m left wondering:
Fast cars? Or slow squirrels?

Yes, these were the deep thoughts that haunted me during my last run.

Yesterday’s early morning run was short, but gruesome. The local streets looked like a backdrop for the final scene of a Shakespearean tragedy. That is, a Shakespearean tragedy where all the roles are all filled with suburban woodland creatures. The worst was the skunk – I feel like I can still smell it. Do I need to neti pot the inside of my nose with tomato juice to get rid of that? Blech.

Yes, Colby, you get to do relays with Bambi, and I get to dodge dead squirrels. I think I might be on Atalanta’s bad side.

Of course, I spent the full 30 minutes wondering what the hell happened here Wednesday night? Were the animals mesmerized by all the Christmas lights? Do those new fancy LED blinkers slow them down? Did the sudden cold snap shock them? Were they victims of those sneaky, all-but-silent Priuses? Was it due to people rushing off for some holiday shopping or heading down to the beach to set a new caroling record? (Yes, people in my town set a Guinness World Record for largest group of carolers on Wednesday night. Deck the Halls!!).  I know that the drivers around here are atrocious. But the death toll I saw yesterday morning beats all, and I’ve lived here for almost 10 years.

It was creepy. Of course, after reading Colby’s new post (which, by the way, I could have written – it’s been my experience exactly), I’m just glad I escaped unscathed.

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