possum

I'd become a successful omnivore
scrambling fear and grabbing what was offered when available,
destined for a roadside end, no trophy head of mine.

So many idiotic deer,

smug birds, perverted dogs.

At home there's a cat and 10 kids
who don't know shit and can't help you.

Maybe I stink, look nuts, work too hard to live.

Starvation and rivals everywhere--

all that slinking just to thieve an egg

knowing you'll never be wolf-sized

all balanced by the
you are no deermouse, it could be worse
routine routine routine.

Neither good and bad nor in between seems tenable.

99 times out of 200 I do the right thing.

Before long you’re just moving on inertia

and if you stop who would know?