i (i) wrote,

  • Mood:
the rapidly spinning grey blur scattering feathers across the view in my mirror had no idea when it pulled its head from under its wing this morning, shook itself, preened a bit and began hunting bugs, that 2000 pounds of metal was flying towards it at eighty miles per hour, that today would be the day crossing the highway was deadly. and it has no idea how the sight of its tumbling corpse made me feel just a bit less like a worthwhile part of Life. how having seen it die made every bug hitting my windshield that much more meaningful today. how i considered life without an automobile, and thought even more about the morality of eating meat. i saw two dead bunnies by the side of the road, and a dead cat, and the remains of a deer. but i didn't kill them. i killed a bird.


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