Headlights blinding bright,
Staring at the sun except it’s slowly getting closer.
An impending catalyst
That they can only watch
It’s standing in the street,
Stopped at the yellow stripe like
it’s the finishing line.
‘CONGRATS YOU’RE OUR WINNER’
First place meet blinding light.
Eyes wide, staring out from the spotlight
“Center stage, awaiting impact.”
Long legs, stilted and bent out,
barely holding up its weight,
Shaking like the
Hands on the steering
wheel.
The foot doesn’t move off the gas pedal,
The steering wheel isn’t being
yanked
To the side.
The deer remains in place, hope and trusting more than it should.
It’s stuck to the pavement, old gum dried and crusted to the road.
Both sides maintain nonsensical hope the other
will give up at the last
second.
Brakes screech. Earth hits sun. Gold medal cracked in half. Curtain falls.
No more hoping, no more anything.