Deer Vision
D. Michael McNamara
Confused inside of my disorientation:
Soon I’ll be dead.
I can see the future:
Bearing down on me
with screeching brakes
and a verbose wail.
The world sees me:
From behind the steering wheel
(fists clenched, squeezing,
panicked and ready for collision).
But I cannot see them:
Days go by:
The smiles of girls torture me:
Some wink, some waive.
But I’m stuck in the lights:
Deer vision.
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