we look back to our deer city, shrug our shoulders and say, “fuck that."
you nod your had in the direction of a forest, indicating, “let’s go there."
half way into the forest we encounter a bear with a psychological disorder.
in a flash he attacks us.
we remain there, stunned, alternately watching him tear our own homemade flesh from our surprisingly white bones, and nursing each others’ gaping wounds.
after the bear has satisfied himself on the fresh meat, he comes around to reality and sheds a couple of tears in our direction.
he walks over, paws outstretched, he means no more harm.
he hoists us both onto his back and walks us to the edge of the forest.
he cannot leave the forest, so he sets us down gently and retreats.
hey! would you look at that! we’re on a hill. there’s a grassy slope and at the bottom is some beach and then water as far as the eye can see.
we are eagar to get to the lake, but a bit timid by nature.
we both lean too far forward and lose balance and go toppling down the hill.
we run into each other.
we try to slow ourselves.
we try to stop.
we try to at least make the falling not so awful; try not to smack one another in the head with our remaining limbs.
in our eyes and mouths and under our feet.
we’re just two teenage deer adjusting to having a missing limb and resting our baffled bodies on the shore of an accidental adventure lake.
we’re just two teenagers adjusting to each other on the shore of lake michigan.