Saturday, September 24, 2016

Night Crossing

If I could spit or dodge or detour, I would
I am 215 years old and my sight is going
Across the road are friends and food
This treacherous journey across 50 feet has cost me family
I pray traffic will be light
If I make it across, maybe I'll just stay there
I think I hear an 18 wheeeler
Damn humans
I wish my shell was neon

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