Elegy To The Dead Raccoon

I apologize to the dead raccoon. Splayed by the side of the road where a sidewalk might be. Had there been one. A fresh kill, but clean. A thin ooze from the mouth. Hit and run, no doubt. "I am so sorry. I honor you," I say to the raccoon and really to all the critters who cross the line. If ever there was a heaven, which I believe impossible, all cars should be banned along with all humans. Which makes me sad for me.  Let the dear hearts rise up, ringed tails slipping away to a safe hideaway, a sky of dotted swiss. There a raccoon, a crow, up goes a skunk, the opossum who drank from my hose, the coyote, skinny as a rail. A sumptuous feast would await their arrival. That would be heavenly.