poemtober day 4- deer

when the road twists and turns i follow with my headlights beaming, sparkling streetlights resemble flying cars.
the smell of gasoline pairs well with whiskey, an open container is an embarrassing way to go down.
i turn the blind drive, eyes wide open,
another pair of headlights, large and round, look back at me.
i accelerate and accelerate and lurch forward with a crash.
the sound of a body hitting the ground, legs, one, two, three, four snap.
fawn have spots, i always forget. this one had a wound on its left rear thigh. it would have gone on its own anyway.
misery begone, i pour the rest of my beer on its torso.