he stops and starts
goes back and forth
as I slow and weave
and somehow manage
to straddle him with my wheels
and leave his little grey body
alive on the asphalt

in the rearview
I see him turn
and look my way ...
stunned, I imagine

maybe he wasn't quite
suicidal ...
maybe we're not either ...
not really --

maybe sometimes
we're just not sure which way to turn
as the cruel machine
bears down