Star Fish

well, I've been driving this car that I named star fish.

It's a mercury topaz, a smaller sized sedan, 4 cylinder engine.
It has one headlight.


Last night, while I was hunting for a place to camp,
a deer charged right out in front of me. My reflex reaction of course
was slam on the brakes, and I fish-tailed on impact, skidding around this very winding
very treacherous highway called 101, about six hundred feet above sea level but fifteen feet (more or less) east of the sea. Those are sheer cliffs.

Somehow, I remembered someone said to me, if you hit a deer, keep going.
A little birdie whispered in my ear, or the schizophrenic part(s) of me that has
another voice said out loud, floor it. It's all I could do.
The deer sommersaulted over the side of the hood and into the ditch.

It happened very very fast and I was terrified.

I stopped.

I took deep breaths.

I smoked a cigarette.
My entire body throbbed and shivvered.

I turned around.
I went to look for it.
It wasn't on the road.
I turned around again.

There was a man standing there with a flashlight.

"Did you see me hit it?"

"No, I heard it. I live right up the hill there. I just let the dogs out to chase it out of the yard.
I didn't think it could run this far that fast."

"Well, it ran right in front of my car. There's nothing I can do. Is it still alive?"
I slowly approached. "Oh, it's a buck."

"He's not breathing."