Meeting On The Highway Poem by Rob Dyer

Our eyes meet, for one brief infinity
we gaze into the deep brown entrance
of our souls,
and are amazed.
Who is this living thing within its massive, heartless
beast hunting me down its wide grey path,
that has not killed, she asks.

As I peer
within her dead acceptive gaze the brown voice
within that swimming pool speaks behind my retina,
'Fenced within the grudging enclaves of the woods
that man has thought enough, we have all gone mad.
How can we roam the breeding ranges of our blood?
I am the weak decreed to die if others are to live.'

I have not hunted her.
She will live on
incestuous like some gross monster of man's love
within our habitat.

'I saved a deer, '
I tell my wife, but do not tell the truth.