Country Road

hundred feet of head-lighted road humping under wheels like forgotten chances are spotted yellow reflectors down the center line occasionally tapping wandering tire's rubber like previous prototypes to an unsuccessful land mine under endless test the completeness of the night with quick lurch light your cigarette when the lighter pops from the console and lose the knob down your lap and see the hell glow circle of heated metal show in your crotch its surprise-mouthed "O" shit and have a tantrum on the brakes as the car follows attention deficited wheels who let the rain and brakes distract their calm lines in a Great God inertia slide down in the seat and the last thing you think before hitting the deer is curl in your thumbs so you don't break them on the wheel but they don't move dammit, you shriek to the dumb deer and it relaxes its hazel orbs on your car's unblinking, passionless stare as the animal effortlessly tumbles like a gymnast over your hood, roof, trunk, and you continue into tire-tilled high grass and a don't move me tree, opposable snaps, your car finishes screwing around and you can stop screaming and get out of the car to see how the other came out comes steam from slick burst of deer God you say as it weakly glances over its splintered shoulder like a woman feigning disinterest and you can see the message of what's happened has not yet traveled to its thin head off any traffic and pull it, what'll be pulled, it's hind end trailing blood dark and distilled from several nights like these slowly concentrated upon its eyes as you hugstrangle its neck and feel your dumb thumbs strum pain and stop its soft, child-sized head from realizing at last breath comes that smells like a wasted, clean chance.