I was driving to town.
I rounded a curve and jammed the brakes.
There was a raccoon walking away
Right in the middle of the road.
I slowed down to the speed of her gait.
I had a good chance to look at her.
I determined she was a she
With a dark outer coat.
About twenty feet and she turned
To cross to the left side of the road.
And as she turned, she stopped for a second
And looked right at me
Before scurrying into the woods.
The way she looked haunted me
All the way into town.
It was a look of judgment.
It was a lucid look.
It was a look that made me ask the her-in-me,
Why are you glaring at me?
Didn’t I slow down for you?
It was the middle of the day.
When wild animals appear in broad daylight
We automatically think –
For the rest of this new poem by GARY LINDORFF, is poet-in-residence at ThisCantBeHappening!, please go to: