8 AM

The road is closed.

Cars come to a halt.

I hear angry drivers watching, cursing me,

But what happened wasn’t my fault.

 

I’m sorry they had a detour,

But God knows so did I,

As I lay beside my flattened car,

Preparing my goodbyes.

 

Rewind.

 

7 AM

Driving down the road,

High-beamed headlights in my eyes,

Two cars coming toward me; racing,

Swerving side to side.

 

I guess they didn’t see me,

I guess my car horn wasn’t loud,

Because they didn’t seem to notice,

Until they saw me on the ground.

 

The drivers, they were fine,

They surrounded me in tears.

I couldn’t hear them, I couldn’t move,

But the drivers reeked of beer.

 

Alcohol. I smell Alcohol.

As I’m fading, beginning to fall.
Tell my mother that I love her,

And that what happened wasn’t my fault.