Lately a Raccoon
A pile of wildly stacked bones and meat
In the center of the lane
Rotting in the sun, rotting
Smears of life mixed with smears of rubber
Form the sacred monument —
Testament to speed
The sculptor is long gone, his artwork completed
But now it stands untouched
Avoided as carefully as it was created
Avoided, but why?
Avoided to prevent further disrespect?
no
Avoided to keep the chrome clean?
no – but more likely
Avoided to preserve the instant of death.
To leave on display the transition
Brains spilling out of ears
Feet in the air at impossible angles
Greasy blood baking into the blacktop like tar
Into death
The fascination, the contempt, the
Longing
For the sudden stop and squealing brakes and silence