the not deer

i often feel like i find myself—
confused on how i got here—
confused on why i am here at all
and mostly confused 
on what i’m doing that’s so wrong

it feels like maybe i have made a mistake 
in taking home in a place i don’t belong

because this land is yours 
and i’m eating your rotten apples 
and your dogs hate me
and you’re honking your car horn at me 
and i’m jumping right into traffic 

and i have to ask
what does it mean to be something i am not
i look like it, i feel like it, 
i am it in every way
and still i am not doing it right 

does that mean i am nothing at all

at least you haven’t gotten your gun yet 
at least the cars still stop when i cross the road 
at least you look at me with either ambivalence 
or 
kindness 
before you see that i’m just lying 

and you ask yourself if it ever really happened
if i was ever there at all
like you–
like you could ever do such a thing

say i deserved it 
or don’t 

it doesn’t matter because 
your apples will still rot 
your dogs will still bark 
you will still crash your car 
and your land can be your land again 

it’s fine 
you can have it 

and i still haven’t come up with another 
solution 
but to sharpen my teeth
pick my broken jaw up off the ground 
focus my blurry eyes

and maybe i can finally see you now 
and maybe it still doesn’t matter