When the
deer jumped the wall and dented my car door,
I thought I
had killed it or it had killed itself
But after a
head shake and wobble it sprinted,
Disappearing
into the Yorkshire countryside.
There were
no witnesses. I could invent a yarn,
My own tall
tale about this epic collision,
No
surveillance photos to challenge my version,
The
audience’s ears perked, mouths open, eyes wide.
I would
feign flushed aftershock, hands gently trembling,
Needing one
more single malt to steady myself,
Impersonating
the sublime Olivier.
They had to
believe I survived a deer attack.
And with
each performance, more imagination,
Lying
developing, lying as an art form,
The best
lying with an air of truth, a straight face.
Deer jumped
a wall, I crossed a line, no going back.
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