Outside my office window-
a flat patch of land
where a home once stood
no shadow, fresh dirt,
I cant remember it, exactly.

Outside my office window-
two police cars
lights flashing, sirens off
black tarp, solid form
still body-shaped, but still.

Outside my office window-
a big semi truck
from the deconstruction site
that rolled over that woman-
eighteen wheels-to-two
with blind spots
now she’s gone,-
but not buried yet.

I can still see her form there
right where I biked to work last Friday
singing loud enough to hear-
if you rolled your windows down-
riding fast enough to see-
if you checked your mirrors-
but soft enough to fall-
if you won’t, or don’t-
and small enough to be forgotten,
once they lay that pavement down.