Snake At Noon

It is true that daylight robs, it pushes us into sights that we come to question; such as the python that lay like a thick ship’s hawser in the road, and would not move for my jeep. In the blinding dark of night 15 wheelers rumble through here, the snake would be crushed in minutes, pushed through its skin like a sausage, but in the hot empty afternoon heavy traffic growls somewhere else bypassing eyes and ears and the python, its muscular rib cage moving as slow as molasses nudges the day sideways as my engine idles.