“In Memoriam of Greyhounds”

Bounding Forward,

Bouncing and rocking as greyhounds do.

Me,

Strolling along the squared cement.

Him,

Driving without looking,

Driving without thinking,

Driving without driving.

The blackened orb mounts the curb.

My eyes flashed,

Flashed in the intensity of the bright headlights.

I slid to the side,

Out of the mammoth’s mighty path.

Kuckles, unmarked and soft,

Crashed into the shield of hard plastic.

As the greyhound careened off the cement,

Back to the asphalt,

I knew.

Worse than a few bruises that I now bore,

Would have been blood dripping into the drain.

I see colors.

Not as before in their absent existence,

I see them in their glory and versatility.

Food is grand,

The subtle tastes increased intensity.

Wonderful flavors to delight the sense.

All I can do after that,

Is give thanks to that bus.

For if death hadn’t been so near,

I wouldn’t be here,

To write this story,

To say it in your ear,

To recall it for all to hear.