Playing Chicken

by A.J. Huffman

with a vulture in the middle of Hope
Road, defending its find,
some butchered necropsy
of undecipherable origin.  I slowed
to give warning, time for flight.  Surely
even this small-brained carrion could decipher
the outcome of this equation:
2 ton vehicle + 1 large bird = double road kill.  Obviously,
I was incorrect.  It flared its wings, faced me
head on.  Stunned by the savage audacity of this creature,
I caved.  Stopped
my car.  Watched in continuing awe as it cawed
in triumph, carried its carcass into the sky.