We had no Intention of Dying Tonight

Inspired by a death that touched many hearts in my hometown, R.I.P. to all lives taken that night.

Comatose.

Life sustained by machines --

preserving donations.

Twenty-four hours remain.

Windshield smashed,

flipped in a ditch.

Skull fragmented, heart skids

like the tire marks trailing

to the charred metal casket.

Ten minutes earlier

six of us stumble behind.

Vision a blur, night cloaks us.

Pile in for the ride.

An hour ago

we tilted heads back

and let each shot

burn its way down

a path of fire.

Two hours before

we lay on wet grass

and counted stars,

clouding up clear skies

with cigarette smoke.