Light turns red.
Metal meets metal, glass explodes,
Screeching to a stop.
Quiet hiss of the engine off in the distance
Everybody watches, but they can’t move.
Still struck with shock
A few people get to the accident
Wanting to look inside with hope on their faces.
They all wait for help.
Lights, sirens, quiet whispers
Litter the concrete
With the rest of the debris.
This afternoon at the crossroads.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.