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Tuesday, 10 October 2017


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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