Interstate 295

The vexing scene unfolds my brain,

yet my eyes cannot turn

from the destruction

and chaos spilled upon

the wet concrete

as a mother screams louder

than the sirens above her

and the spinning lights illuminate

her reality.

And I, along with everyone

else, slows

long enough to inhale

the carnage before us.

Shamefully

we silently stare with

anxious hearts and open

mouths. We

sigh with relief when

we don’t recognize the

twisted metal before us.

Moments later we

regain our speed,

rush into our lives again

and to our destinations

but never forgetting what

we saw that day

on Interstate 295.

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2 thoughts on “Interstate 295

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