A red-breasted robin
floundered on the double-yellow
with no excuse
for its meeting with the grill
of a fading Chevy.
Contrary to the charlatans
I've got no use for wounded birds
mending wings and water into wine.
Take it hip to hip.
Take it any way you want to.
Roam around the world
since this valley's not enough.
It's no coincidence
that mating season
and the witching hour
always overlap.
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