This work of art is 16x11in Ink on 110lbs cotton paper by Legion.
Work is shipped and packaged appropriately.
Original.

I looked around, standing in my kitchen- thinking how I'd like to have a pineapple greek yoghurt.
I could drive to Krokers and get it- but if I settled for coconut ot vanilla, Food Dawg was much closer- and waking up late for my work made more precious of the time I was eating through.
 
Driving there I saw a dead skunk on the opposing lane, visibly fresh as their fur appeared dry and sleek amidst this gray wet day. I considered my drive back this way with dread- would I drive over, or around their little body?
 
At Food Dawg a young guy at the deli cut me some salami- he seemed cheery. It reminded me how I miss dealing in a highly social position, how I love people, how I can get them to smile a bit. People shine so well when you just give them a little bit of attention and genuine interest. I must wedge myself into a like life again one day, for it seems of use.
 
On my way back from Krokers- a few cars up, this gray pickup stops in the middle of the road for no reason- there's no fender bender- no pedestrian waiting to cross the street. The pickup passenger door opens and a man in a hi viz shirt steps out- walks to the rear of the truck. They pick up a large fluff of white and black- and it's tossed in the bed of the truck. I wonder to myself if, maybe there's an individual cardboard box, to serve this little dude at least that small honor of a burial. And I realize- if I worked collecting thousands of roadkill- I may find a less glamorous means of disposal. 
To my left atop a roof- Way on top- is the largest black figure I see- the only larger moving things are the cars. This is a large dark bird with a small head, clearly a scavenger- this vulture must have just gotten here from who knows how far- drawn by the ... sweet mother of god- the stench hits me all of a sudden. The smell from a freshly dead skunk- the poor baby must have pissed themselves in fear. Their dying moment, this large skunk- how long did you live, buddy? You ate well did you? You were so big..
The man gets back in the pickup- I turn to the bird atop the roof and wave.. Sorry buddy! Maybe next time you'll get yours!
I had to roll my windows further- as to vent the stench of agonizing death from my senses. And I was surprised and pleased to find inside me solace- some nurture of spirit- because of that bird. That yes, that baby died under the wheels of the indifference of man. But here- this other living creature- will make of their small tragedy- a one course meal fit for a king of vultures. Oh the scent of fresh late skunk- yum. Yes- that would have been a small pebble of kindness to lay on the grave of the mindfulness and compassion of these our days.
 
Contemplating the loss of a small little love- in my old age I remind myself, that there will be more. That one day, there will be little animals again- that they will run wild and feel the sunshine on their fur. That they will play and eat and sleep- and one day also, perhaps slowly-perhaps abrupt- their existence will end. And may they serve a one course meal fit for a vulture king.
 
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