Headlights blinding bright,

            Staring at the sun except it’s slowly getting closer.

                                    An impeding 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.