Saturday, July 11, 2009
I don't know anything about them, but I had to swerve out and avoid hitting one today.
It lay dead, flattened and bloody just this side of the right shoulder of Sunset Boulevard. I was driving west, through Beverly Hills, where the boulevard curves and winds and cars roar by you, convertible tops down, impossible to imagine luxury. The buildings on my right weren't really houses, but mansions, estates, vast and ugly and new, at least to me.
And the coyote, dead and flattened and bloody.
It was too easy to comment upon, to wonder from where it loped, what great wilderness drove it away to its death on Sunset Boulevard.