Not what was left could be called deer
except for the maroon head lying
in the passing lane, the rest an unidentifiable mass,
and a little further, off the road,
the white minivan, its front end collapsed
Evolution, you said, or lack thereof,
nothing deer encounter in nature
moves at highway speed.
Those that learn to respect cars
will pass along those genes.
That could take awhile, we both agreed.
How can nature ever hope to survive
We drive into the blazing sun,
it’s sinking like a burning ship.
Sitting straighter in our seats:
a shadow moving along the wild fringed edge.