it isn't the sudden flash of fur

in the darkness of the night

heading straight

for my front right tire

that haunts me as I take this street—

the shortest way

from point to point

with a median

of grass and trees

to lull the squirrels into feats

of doomed

and desperate acrobatics—

what bothers me as I recreate

the incident in my mind’s

rear window

isn’t the pause in which I braked

nor the light and muffled thump

it’s the glimpse I got of something

small and agile

thrashing about

illuminated in my side mirror

with even greater energy

that it had shown in darting out

the impact hadn’t struck it dead

or stunned it senseless
and inert

instead had knocked it

into higher aimless capers

on the cement

that life force

was still at its peak

but hopeless, blinded,

off its head

and struggling to find its feet

beyond reason or human rescue

like a stranded electric impulse

unplugged

and slowly dying out

while my car

a sporty hybrid

shows no trace of a bloody dent

but smooths the way

for my placid passage

through a world of accidents