The Hill

I remember the hill as the place
Where I learned how to drive close to other cars
Without hitting them.

It was the slope up which I pushed my bike
Giddy and weightless
After I kissed a boy for the first time.

The place where one day
A rabbit decided to cross the road at the exact wrong moment
Such that with one foot on the gas
And no time for either of us to react
It was dead.

I pulled over on the hill and cried.
Overwhelmed by the realization 
That I had the power to take away a life.
The irreversibility of my accidental crime made me wonder
Whether I had any right to be on that hill in the first place.