Driving home from work yesterday, all the sleepy people heading into their day as mine was ending, I encountered wildlife. I saw a pack of Gazelles, in male form, outfitted in thin sheer running shorts, hooves shod in tight bright colors, promising speed and performance. They darted through the traffic at the stop light, cars belching exhaust, their lungs expelling fog, as they raced their shadows in the morning sun along the asphalt. Two ran in front of me, as I idled, their heads high turning this way and that, smelling the fall air in flared nostrils. I could see each rib in stark relief against their skin. They were an unreal image in a mundane scene, graceful and beautiful. Bathed in the early morning light, heat radiating from each one, vapor trails. Twenty all told heading down the road to the University; legs kicking back in my rear view mirror, propelling them at high speed to their final destination.


As quickly as they invaded our sluggish fleet they were gone, leaving in their wake, a flash of envy to never know their speeds, for my body is not that of a gazelle.