On the Way

On the way to work he sees a dead dog

in the middle of the road

watches as two more cars hit it

– a job well done –

and tells himself not to be the kind of man

that cries over dead dogs.


5 thoughts on “On the Way

    1. This broke my heart. In a good way, of course (that’s possible, right? I think so)

      Thanks for this, Alice. I will admit that I too have been the kind to cry over roadkill and poetry.

      1. It’s possible that anything to be “in a good way”, even a broken heart. Maybe especially a broken heart.

        I was trying to describe a sad feeling I was experiencing to my husband yesterday.

        I said I was feeling lonesome with no one to turn to… but in a good way.

        He said “Strawberries with mustard but in a good way, eh?

        Sometimes the only thing that will express something is poetry.

        I weep over roadkill and poetry as well. You and I are kin.

        1. Strawberries with mustard. What a delightful image to describe such a not-so-delightful feeling.

          Though, to be honest, I quite like having my heart broken. Guilty pleasure.

          Yes. Poetry is the best way I know how to speak. I would walk this earth reciting sonnets if that were an acceptable form of communication.

          You and I are kin. I’ve always known 😉


Thoughts? I love those.

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