I keep seeing all these squashed copperheads on our road.
That goes without saying, I suppose. If these snakes are “squashed”, they’re probably dead.
When I’m running….and I’m not, right now….I’m taking a break from the running….I run in the dark.
Early morning runs….in the dark.
That’s when I run….when I can’t see….and no one can see me.
I thought about those snakes….and thought of an “early morning, in the dark, I can’t see” run….on a road covered with poisonous snakes….like a perverse form of russian roulette….played on a three-mile stretch of long black gun.
I don’t have a death wish.
I like to maintain a positive outlook.
But….I don’t know if believing that I’m safe is always enough.
Those are some pretty big copperheads that I’m seeing lately….squashed on the road.
A car tire makes a more lasting impression than a size 9 running shoe.
Or, I should say, a car tire makes a more lasting impression on a viper than a viper might make on a man wearing a size 9 running shoe.
It might be part of the thrill….to survive something that really isn’t all that big a deal.
What in life isn’t like that, though? Reality is easy if I don’t conjure up potential failings.
I’m more afraid the more I know.
Where’d all these snakes come from?
If I’ve seen 3 of them squashed, then how many of them are waiting in the darkness to leave a lasting impression on my sweaty calf?
“snake farm” Ray Wylie Hubbard