I am so sorry
that it ended this way.
That I hit you
as I plowed my way down the blacktop road
to the glare of the bar after a long day’s work.
I am sorry that you never had a chance.
That we never met
before my fender met your confused, blinded stare.
I am sorry that you’re still there now,
lying flattened and smushed
under many crooked black streaks.
Out in the sun and the rain.
I’m sorry I was so tired
and the night was so dark
and I was so thirsty for what I’d earned.
Sorry you didn’t see me.
Sorry I didn’t see you.
Sorry that I’m sorry,
if that’s at all helpful to you.