The skull is not 
crushed. The left
leg is broken. 2
or 3 cervical are
dislocated but the
ears are clear. A
Volvo radial got
him just across the
shoulders. He must
have been about 4
months old, already
a bandit. I saw him
climb down his oak
before he could do
it. Pop. My raccoon
is dead. I’m sad
but smile at its
limp beauty. His
paws and mask match.
I’ll dissect the ears
and larynx. George,
in Physical Therapy,
gets the hands (paws).
Larry can look at the
brain. The forelimb
section on the pre-
central gyrus should
be neat. Speech Path
can have the tongue;
Sparky a new pelt.
He cleaned his food
in the dark of last
night’s moon. Coon
meat for Plummer.
He’ll stew it with
sweet spuds, tell me
it’s the best he’s
ever eaten. Should
at least be tender,
no dog scare or shot.
Garrett gets the tail
for his 1951 Merc.
Daddy gets a few baby
raccoon oyster pearls
for his tooth col-
lection. It stared
at me on my jog this
morning. The skull
will join a cluster
of road kill bleached
bones, placed in a
Cree Indian style
totem to the carless