by bobbymillerwriting

new piece I wrote after taking a particularly road killed dense bike ride down Lake Street, MN

Through Lakes to the River

to the public museum

of road kill,

where you can study


the sciences of animal

anatomy by bike;

or, come to understand


the taste of curdled acid

as the dead do—just before

they pass:


or, to see time

as it sees us,

to know what lies beyond


the flies—


most don’t


know or care

—carried in automobiles,

and I don’t care to blame them


for forgetting their history

and staying off

the streets—


for forgetting—

what their bodies are

made from;


and, what they’ll think

when they too taste

acid on their tongue

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