I stare out at the carnage,
The twisted horror,
Of the car wreck.
The mangled metal,
The immobile body slumped over the steering wheel,
The pools of red-tinted motor oil,
On the surface of the slick street.
Somebody is crying for help,
Somewhere in that menagrie
Of interfused chrome and broken parts,
Somebody is wailing about the pain.
A girl, I think.
I can't help her,
I don't have a phone.
I'm sure somebody will be along, though,
I resolve to stand there,
Mesmerized by the sparkling pebbles,
Of broken glass,
Mirroring the starry sky above.
They look just like diamonds.