CRAWFISH LIVE OR BOILED the roadside stand said
Baskets on the curb, waterlogged, laden with those who await their fate
Excess water, in rivulets, running down the gentle slope of the hill
But in that weak flow, movement. An escapee
Pitched over the side and finding refuge in the flow
Inching downhill to the drainage ditch, and safety
A moment’s notice will doom it
A customer’s tires will crush it
And yet as I sit there, transfixed, waiting at my light
I am in its corner, rooting for the impossible escape
If it can persevere despite the odds, and win
Perhaps there is hope for us all, yet

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