Bottoms Up

An hourly clerk on a Friday at work,
was the last place she wanted to be –
putting up stock while the hands on the clock
seemed to stick on a quarter-to-three.

A typical day filled with minimum-pay,
that would start every morning at eight
made her less than a fan of her parents’ demand
that she get out and pull her own weight.

Amber was young and the burden that hung
on her shoulders was stinging a tad –
that car that she bought really cost her a lot,
and she owed quite a bit to her dad.

The hours would crawl – hardly moving at all,
until finally the time would arrive –
to close up the store, make a dash for the door
and get home at a little past five.

When night rolled around, she’d be out on the town
with some friends at a local saloon
for spirits, some dance, maybe passing romance –
and it just couldn’t happen too soon.

She slipped on a skirt with a tight-fitting shirt
and she wolfed down a small plate of grub –
then she picked up the key to her new SUV
and she hurried on down to the pub.

Her friends were all there, in addition to Claire,
who was sporting a new diamond ring –
her man had proposed and she said she supposed
they’d get married come early next spring.

They rendered a toast – maybe five at the most,
as the drinks and togetherness flowed,
then the group would disband with their purses in hand –
after one or two shots for the road.

A few were concerned when the party adjourned,
about Amber’s material shape –
but she pushed them away, saying all was okay,
and her temper insured her escape.

She started her car and she hadn’t gone far
before everything started to spin –
the markings on signs and the dual yellow lines
were distorted by tonic and gin.

Blind of her state, the internal debate –
to continue or pull to the side,
had too meek a voice to result in the choice
that a cognizant mind would provide.

She came to a turn and was destined to learn
that a ‘left’ really should have been ‘right’ –
that the taillights ahead were supposed to be red,
but instead they were larger – and white.

She came to a curve and the semi that swerved
hid a car that was right in its wake
and the blistering pace of the vanishing space
left her only one option to take.

Though brakes were applied, they were bound to collide
in a gnashing of metal and glass –
then all you could see was a pile of debris
and the odor of coolant and gas.

The crash was severe and it seemed pretty clear
that the big SUV brought her luck –
but the same wasn’t true for the driver and crew
of the oncoming car that she’d struck.

An active Marine was the first on the scene
with the hope he could render a hand –
and the first thing he’d see was a family of three
who were trapped in a mangled sedan.

The man at the wheel had survived the ordeal,
but the woman beside him was dead –
the cause was disclosed when her brains were exposed
from a serious blow to the head.

The driver was trapped, but the baby that napped
in the back was his biggest concern –
he was stuck where he’d be and unable to see
what the others were saddened to learn.

The seat in the back was no longer intact
and the child was nowhere to be found –
but a search of the site in the dark of the night
found her body outside on the ground.

A chopper arrived for the one that survived
and the girls rode a medical van –
they were zipped into bags that were labeled with tags
and then placed onto gurneys by hand.

Amber was cuffed, read her rights and then stuffed
in the back by the Highway Patrol –
she’d failed every test and was under arrest,
but attrition had taken its toll.

The way she was built left her riddled with guilt
when she witnessed the scene with dismay –
the penitent bite of a chopper in flight
and an ambulance driving away.