hyper social week

i saw a bird today
run over by a distracted driver.
a mangled heap on the street,
blood and feathers and guts spilled
shiny beak half-intact, half-cracked
like an accusing mirror.
its wings beaten and flat on the ground
its eyes barely open
one of its feet trying desperately to flee.

you have run me over, my love.
i lie here, looking up at the sky
with dark eyes, threatening to close.

please stop.
turn around.
help.