Deer Intermission   Stephen Danos



Last night on the ride home from work
two does galloped in front of my head-
lights, microcosm of pixels contrasted
against brunette fur.  The couple was late
for some late-night rendezvous
sheltered in the darkness of woods.
Scenes flashed once I heard coins clink         
against stick-shift: mechanical parts split,
sparks shot the asphalt, engine oil dripped,
fender-bender without information exchange.
Debris of once-was deer, my dented hood
covered in morsels of flesh and fleece.
Movie-scenes stitched to synapses, the only
thoughts in my momentary madness.
My car's one-shot method unlike Russian
roulette, as deer ambled onto paved
roads, traveled on the freezer-burned night.
Passing cars shouted as the deer dashed across
the highway, spared from disembowelment,
transferred to memory.  Microhabitat of the brain
will recall a moment of imagined impact, where
I relished in the jelly of eyeballs under tires.