Deerly Beloved
If one were collecting deer carcasses for, say, shocking art, or a late night snack, or maybe to start a line of luggage made from their hide and call it Carrion Luggage, one need only travel down the road I take to work everyday. As the weeks have scrolled by I began noticing them in the backdrop. At first it was an ugly smear across the road ending in a pile of unidentifiable rubbish. What other creature has the capability to turn life instantly into trash? How bold, how exciting! And so I drove, day in and day out over the blood soaked highway carefully teaching myself to avert my mind. Then it was me swerving into the other lane to avoid contributing to this macabre play called "My Drive to Work". In my mind I pictured a horde of turkey vultures swarming around the dead deer, rending in their own beaky fashion for the tasty flavours provided when asphalt mixes with meat. I saw the world swatting these vultures one at a time with a Chevy Suburban or Ford F-350 or one of th...