When I was six,
Dry mud on my fingertips,
I ran over a toad
With my bike on a mysterious, concrete road.
It had hopped right in front of me
And felt like pebble under the tire, you see.
But I had known instantly what I’d done
That dark afternoon with very, little sun.
I had been peddling so fast, to see if I could fly
Instead in seconds, I killed the little guy.
I hit my brakes immediately, ...