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That night I wish he’d handed me the keys.
We just left from a magnificent bar.
The vodka and rum were his enemies.
At first he couldn’t even find his car.
I asked him, “are you sure you want to drive?”
He said, “no worries son, I am all good.”
Thinking to myself would we all survive?
That second we were friends with the wood.
Crawling around the car into the street.
My hands and face were drenched in all blood.
His head in the windshield, out of his seat.
He was unbuckled, his car full of mud.
Blaming myself for what happened that day,
Can’t bring back my father in any way.