The tour guide said
vision is very poor on
the armadillo, just like an
old man wandering aimlessly,
lost in the fog.
Their sense of smell
being the only light
in their cold dark world.
The speed of a rabbit
combined with the
defense of the turtle.
However, they are
all bark and no bite.
They scream and jump
into blinding white headlights,
their last moment, as the light
behind their eyes fades into
pitch black pools.

Another accident
on the freeway of life.

Sometimes I wish I could be
like an armadillo
and roll up into a ball
and tune the world out around me,
or dig my own hole to hide in.
Hiding, just to get away from
my problems
Maybe one day,
I could float
on the water’s seemingly
never ending transparent surface
into the setting sun.