I hit a deer, but it did not stutter.
It stood steel as its body hit my bumper.
The glass shattering from its frame,
Sprinkling in the wind, soft winter rain.
My seat-belt held me tight, but I can't say the same
For my passenger who went flying into the winter rain.
He went flying but without any pain.
There was no grimace
When his body gently rolled on the pave.
It tossed and turned in the bed-frame.
I did not move,
There a statue behind the wheel,
Locking eyes with this one lonely deer
With antlers so grand tips red.
Behind this singular deer lays roadkill.
Roadkill among broken antlers
Bare right where my passenger was.
In place of him the same broken antlers lay on the road
Waiting to erode.
Me behind the wheel,
Driving directly into this deer,
Deer standing singularly so steel,
Crashed car,
Passenger in the road,
Roadkill,
Where did my friend go?
I know where.
I just pretend not to know.
I don't want anyone to know, only him.
So I crashed the car.
I hit the deer, the only obstacle.
That's why I ran over myself, the deer.
So singularly still.
Frightened by the headlights that could be me and him.
Him and I but I hit this deer.
