[Prose] Feathers and Dust

2009-06-11 @ 7:57 p.m.

There's a robin in the alley behind my house -- flattened, ground into the gravel and the dirt. Each day I walk past I see it there.

Every day that dead robin is covered in more dust and more pebbles. Sometimes the cars that have rolled over it have nudged it slightly to the side, this way or that. But it is so flat that it cannot get any flatter.

And it is so dead that it cannot get any deader.