Turning Off, Tuning In

Pedaling down a main road, sidewalkless and too close to traffic, I take care to avoid both the highway and the brush that overcomes the embankment to my left. Rocks often make this area tricky to navigate, as one under my tire could send me off my bike and into sticker bushes or the pathway of oncoming traffic. Looking down, conscious of obstacles, I spot a lifeless bird. Unlike typical Levittown roadkill, the robin is full breasted and devoid of visible physical damage. It is beautiful and appeared to have recently, simply put, dropped dead. I glance up and see what I believe to be its shocking reaper; the power lines that stretch along  most streets in this town.  A few weeks later, my parents discussed the decapitation of a harmless baby bunny that took place in my back yard. That day, my dog finally was awarded his sought after prize of rabbit when my mother paid too much attention to pepper plants. Dad walked into the shed two seconds too long to catch the dog surprising his prey. We spoke of all the horrible accidents experienced with pets and wild animals alike-- my pet kitten ran over by a neighbor years ago, dad swerving to avoid a squirrel gripping it's apple and leaving only the fruit behind, a lost dog hit just as a good samaritan loosened grip on his collar...  That night, I came home unusually early for myself. It was 11:15 and I reached the black strip of road just before my house, unlit by lamp posts. The car not far ahead of me was going five under the speed limit and easily annoyed, I left little distance between our front and back bumpers. Before my eyes, an opossum darted into view and suddenly was crushed by the back right tire of the silver Chevy sedan I trailed. The tire curved over its body, lifting the back end of the car slightly. The driver kept on course to their destination while I swerved gently around the corpse. I couldn't believe what I had seen, so vivid, illuminated by my beaming headlights. The shine of the living creatures eyes stays with me, as nasty as those rodents are. Taking my bike to work this morning, I passed the spot where the incident took place 3 or 4 nights ago. I whipped by the skeletal structure: the heat caused a smell worse than the chemical plant fire caused by lightning last month. Tanned to an even muddy brown and flattened, becoming one with the concrete, the opossum reminded me of mankind's own ultimate demise. After dying, the creature loses more and more of itself, wilting into the pavement, becoming unrecognizable, shrinking with every storm, washing back into the earth. I felt the wave of sadness, technology causing nature's demise, simultaneously assisting us to forget our damage. I shake my head and pedal on the 5.2 miles to work.