There is only a woman standing on the uneven shoulder of the road.
She can only imagine the sound of the impact, metal sending him
Through the darkness like an ornate ceramic vase in the hands of a child.
As he stood and fell, walked and crawled away from the
twisted remnants of his bike,
What was foremost on the blood-filled and boozed-filled mind?
As his blurry fingers began to squeeze the well-oiled trigger,
did he challenge the powers above,
Or did he justify himself to those who would
hear a phone ringing in the silence of the night.
She will never know, but kneels down and runs her fingers across
the dark red stain;
Her sobs fading into the depths of the still night
Her sobs fading into the depths of the still night
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