The elk herd returned today to my side of the street.
As a job applicant, cardiovascular disease deaths
excite me. Problems are openings.

Cars become weapons on curveless Indiana Street,
murderous wheels splattering rabbit teeth.
I spent four hours today looking for openings.

The ghosts of Rocky Flats haunt Indiana Street.
Buried, radioactive particles envy the surface
contaminants, desperate for an opening.

One elk didn’t make it back across the street.
Coyotes snap at fresh meat, teeth warm
with a body too big for traffic’s small openings.

Tomorrow, animals will leave roses on Indiana Street.
Tomorrow will mean roadkill and radioactive waste.
Tomorrow, I’ll look for new job openings.

Ghosts wet contracts with blood on the streets.
I’ve watched the elk learn to fill openings.
One day, I’ll trample Indiana Street.