It’s not a Syrian child washed up on the beach, it’s
a rolled up greenish-grey exhaust-stained carpet on
the northbound shoulder of the highway. It’s not
a German shepherd, coyote or fox battered to the side
of the 5, a half mile before the Balboa exit. It’s curled
up, holding itself. It’s nylon fiber, not hair or fur bristling.
It’s not a lost dolphin lying in shattered windshield glass
or homeless person too tired to take another step. It’s
not another body-bagged soldier. It’s a piece of rug,
being passed at 70, 80 miles an hour by thousands
every day. Don’t think about it. Put the radio on.
What’s the matter with you?
about the author