They were, ahhhhh, he did what he had to do. He asked no questions. He had few conversations. The tar glistens in the noon heat. He tread across the grass, up onto, and down off of, the concrete abutments. Mirage on the highway. Ghosts in the tunnel. The dark cave. Out into the blinding light of day at breakneck speed. Every bolt rumbling. Glistening highway mirage groans. The slick surface. Careening into first the small mammal, and then screeching along the guard rail, scraping paint and throwing sparks like sheets of pure terror for 400 yards, over and over. With one final back and forth rocking motion coming to rest, wake up! The beautiful paint-job hopelessly marred. Smoke and flames. All right, so nice. He moved to the small creature. Screeching whistles of steam blowing off. On it's back, wheels spinning like a cinema classic. The door sags open and a man covered in blood drops the three feet or so to the pavement. The car still rattling and shaking as if with a mind of it's own, unwilling to die. The man, 40-ish, also after a time, an agonizingly painful period of time, is also unwilling to die. Suddenly all is quite quiet. And there in the sunlight on the highway. But what? What can i do? I cannot move, everything is about broken. Blood everywhere, mixing with oil and gas. What's moving? Must turn my head. Pain. White light. Blinded. Some guy there kneeling in the blinding mirage of white light. All my strength to 'heeeeeelp!' Screaming now help me please. He tried to tamp out the bit of burning ember that had leapt from the wreck onto his grimy coat-sleeve. Coughing blood. What's happened? He's . . . he's inching towards truth. He strode off into the woods with the animal. It still lived. He didn't glance back at all. Still out ghosting the road. Death on the highway. Words crumble around me and fall with the weight of heaven. I cannot move. I'm beneath the great weight. I cannot see. My eyes are blinded. I am in the darkness. That's it. In panic I forget it. In despair I need it. In my mind I save it. In death I have it. In panic I forget it. And in despair i need it. And I shouldn't laugh. Hah hah hah. Yeah, really. Ah, in panic I forget it. In despair I need it. In my mind I save it. In death I have it. Never gave a damn about the meter man. I was the man who had to read the meters, man. No, didn't write it. Here's the audio version. In the Kingdom #19