Assume the bumps are not people

I’ve run over many people
Or at least it’s a possibility.
There’s so many bumps and jitters in the road
Who is to say I’m not running over feet
Or crushing someone’s skull?

I’m probably wrong, I mean
There would be blood
Or a dent, or a crooked fender.
Screams and news reports,
Or someone making a big deal out of it.

But still I find myself looking back
To see if someone is laying in the road flat.
I was exiting the car wash and my back wheel went off the curb
Or was it some unfortunate soul
Getting caught up in my tire?

This is not a way to live, always looking back.
Always being unsure if I’m killing pedestrians.
And the sticking fear is, I can never know for sure.
But for my peace of mind
Assume the bumps are not people.

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