THE SMELL OF DEAD RACOON

simple,but love metaphorical content. are the spellings intentional? i love that part! gee

the rains when the wipers would slash across the windswhield thump`thump`thump` in the rythmic heartbeat soothing a window cracked open just for the mist that would touch my face the glow of the dials spedometer odemeter tachometer oil pressure voltage gas gauge temperature gauge and the radio tuned to FM stations beyond Ontario far far south into America or a cassette turning leaning in the bench seats in the big American car the long Gran Torino sedans hood jutting ahead of me the dual headlights on high shinning on the wet sparkling pavement as rain falls the yellow line (up here) flickering on curves and solid twins on straigth stretchs the glow of the ashtray green my cigarette (smoked then) the comfort of my american reproduction flight jacket brown thick leather with brass zipper stretch wrist cuffs and waistband collar pulled up the highway dark and slick like a river and then something broken and spilled along the highway unrecognizable white grey pinks tufts of fur an animal and then the smell flowing through the heater vents on the wide sculpted dashboard earthy sweet soft and ripe and then gone the dark river the warm heat the engine purring loudly the sway of the car as she clocks at a steady smooth sixty eight miles per hour the gas tank three quarters full white walls humming whispering their magic

thanks for the poem