Rearview Roadkill

You mound of splay: Roadkill
Finally, key turned, engaged brake
I step out, look back
  inspect the red tread trail from me to you

I follow the red line back, slip
Right myself, definition scuffed
You wait, unsettling
   you stare at me, eye poppingly spent I

peck at the insides, around
Gristle-wrestling foot-slide
You hide underfoot
   lubricated turn, I grind your parts

into ground-pebble crevices, cracks
your retreating self, a part
left behind, I drive
   away.  You: Finally driven

down.