I saw a dead kitten in the road

A steel ball bearing, no larger than your pinky nail, is hurdling through empty black space towards ultimate, unavoidable, oblivion. This ball bearing is my mind.

An ocean liner in the Atlantic does not notice a piece of driftwood being tossed and splintered in its wake. The driftwood is painted in layers of overlying nonsense. Fragments of advice or philosophies summarized in witty catchphrases and clever slogans. Painted and repainted. The relentless waves slowly reveal each layer hidden beneath the previous. The driftwood has no course, no map, no destination. It desires nothing, nor serves a function. This driftwood is my body.

What is she talking about? Why are her fingers entwined with mine? Why is everyone so unhappy? Why are there no pockets on the pool table? Can someone tell me the rules? Am I winning or am I losing?

I saw a dead kitten in the road.