Beetlejuice


A life is now
reduced to a
single,
concentrated
carcass on my windshield.
Miniature organs
can be seen
clearly;
so can
the road
in front of me,
but all I see
are thin legs
being thrashed around
at 56 mph.
I try my windshield wipers:
left,right,
and left again.
The body is spread everywhere
in between,
covering the glass
in a thin layer of beetlejuice.
I see no more
than I did
before.

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