If animals could, they would be butterflies on the road north from Nuevo Laredo. If butterflies could, they would be freed from car grill traps. Hundred and twenty kilometer an hour disaster zone.  These butterflies weren't monarchs, they were snout-nosed. Angry men shouting maggots with wings. Their rage reflected on the scaly brilliance of water-resistant wings.  While driving south from Miguel Alemán, the ground littered with yellow blue red, an array of multiprismatics.  Tiny wings form fluttering carpet stuck in the perch of overheated, crinkly asphalt.  On the road east from San Antonio, swarms overtook the cars and won.