I can’t help but mourn the frogs, flattened
like Wile E. Coyote after the inevitable boulder
plummets from a great height, leaving him
mashed on the pavement while the Roadrunner
speeds off -  vroom, vroom, beep, beep.

I try to steer around them, but they blanket
the road in biblical numbers during the rain
and it’s like some impossible video game
weaving through masses of randomly hopping life
a certain amount of death is unavoidable.

When I walk the road I can’t stop
counting one, two, five, ten, twenty
cartoon-flat bodies littering the pavement
where I extinguished their glittering
copper and golden-green existence.

Last night, on the panes of every lit window
frogs of all sizes and colors gathered
outside, they covered doors, watering cans
even lined up single file on the coiled garden hose
like they were climbing the ladder to frog heaven.

Through the glass, I admired their rhythmic
throats and soft, creamy, underbellies
one, two, five, ten, twenty
fragile creatures seeking warmth
in the hastening darkness.

You walk across the room
in your black *******,
a cigarette in your hand
and turn off the fan
in the open window,
like an undertaker waiting
by the door for the headlights
in the driveway debating
another swig from his flask,
like a ***** blowing smoke
in the dark flicking ash.

Colours were flattened beneath
a dull stretch of graphite sky.
Its cloak dampened the dimension
of nature's vibrancy,
trapping an uncomfortable
heavy warmth void of wind's sigh.
Birds couldn't manage a chirp
nor dogs a bark.

Weighted limbs sprawled
from lifeless bodies
drained of energy.
Lazy eyes lolled
in attempts to peruse
a tree's limp leaves
in hope of movement
urging them
for a sign of relief.
Those eyes soon retreated
to drift and dream
behind weary lids
which sank
as silently as the absent sun.

I recognize
this ground
laced with stones
and poisoned barbs
hike barefoot here
unafraid

a barren desert
feels like home
when there is nothing
to be lost or gained

I have been here
many times before
stripped down naked
in the noonday sun
watching vultures
wheel and dive

as I dangle
twist and spin
ever the enabler
enabling