It’s
8 pm on Main Street. The streetlights illuminate the stuffy
nightThe restless race down the winding highways,Wanting to
get out of this deadbeat town.Out on Main Street,Sirens fill
the evening sky.She was killed almost instantly,Cracks in
her skull and smashed legsmatch the crumbled front of her
Prius.The police think that the diver aheadSuddenly
brakedand she couldn’t react fast enough.Her
boyfriendis crying on the intersection of Main and Eighth.He
was asking her about where to eat dinnerWhen time came to a halt.
This all aired on the 11 pm news;The two newscasters
express their condolencesBefore moving on to cute pet pictures
from Facebook.I sit there on the couch in the living
room,Lost in thought.I ran a red light the other week-Too
lost in an argument to even notice.It’s kind of ironic-We’re
so afraid of growing wingsWhen being on the ground kills so
many.My motherLong before I was bornGot into a bad
accidentShe remembersher fatherin the ambulance with
heras it raced through the busy streets of Tokyo.