Glass and metal spread across the freeway.
Something like a melon, open, and dragged,
seeds and flesh intermixed on the freeway.
A families dreams, destroyed, on hold, shredded
and ended. What of the slow procession,
passerbys, looky-looks, rubber neckers,
just for a moment does their discussion
cease, their hearts sink at the sight. The wreckers
truck stays their studied interest, do they peek,
Does stomach drop, head spin at the sight or
do they avoid the look they do not seek
to know? It could not apply to them for
they certainly would not be so careless,
and yes,life for them is just marvelous.
Once passed the horrid carnage of the crash,
as the view receded in the mirror,
the memory too, late meeting, loose lash,
exigencies of the day, perhaps, stir
up the old habits and the gas pedal
goes back down and the race begins anew.
The gore is replaced by heavy metal
on the radio, turned down for a few
minutes but now, thankfully, all things are
normal. And at end of the day when you
are asked by a spouse or a friend, "How far
were you from that crash on 680?" Do
you stop a second, having forgot all.
A family died, maybe hard to recall.