When Distractions Kill
One second was all it took. A second with our eyes off the road. A second of consequence. One was blind in the dark. His movements were slow. Each step was a different direction. His glasses were gone. It almost appeared as if he was in pain. He would have regretted it later. But it would’ve happened anew. Each weekend was the same. He would’ve forgotten them, Again, again, and again. Yet, he wasn’t driving. Another held a cheeseburger. The grease dripped off the side. Each bite she took, Each inhale, It tore her stomach apart. She might not have lived Past sixty, Past seventy, had she continued. Still, she had more time. The burger remained half-eaten, In the backseat. The light of a cellphone, It pierced the darkness. Each text called out, Cried out, For attention. His face was lit up, With joy, With white light. It was the last expression, He would wear. Still, he didn’t drive. Another brushed their hair. The toothed comb, It untangled, It smoothed the long hair. Each brush jerked the head. But the long locks, They were beautiful, When they were found, In the passenger’s seat. But the driver, The driver was focused. They were ready. The could see, And they weren’t distracted. All it took, Was an overplayed song. They took too long, To change the station, And the car struck. The passengers flew. Seatbelts were off. Limbs snapped. And for what? A night of fun? If they could do it again, They would have changed. They might’ve made it home. Each seatbelt would be buckled, And tears wouldn’t flow, From the eyes of mothers, Fathers, And the ones they knew. Five lives were lost. For what? What good is distracted driving? None. And I just want to say, I’m sorry, For changing the station.