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.
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.