Hindsight
The dirge went
on. The trumpet sighs carrying over the rain-soaked, bowed heads. Perhaps if
they weren’t all so foolhardy none of this would have happened. They could have
lived their whole lives never dressed in black, never having ridden in limos
with purple flags attached to the hood. The same way they were congruent to
going with the flow in the past, today they slosh through the mud in heels, cry
out loud, say clichéd phrases reserved for times like these, and talk about how
he’ll never be forgotten. Their plight, like the velociraptor and T-rex, was
instantaneous. One minute you’re cruising, sixty maybe seventy miles per hour,
singing at the top of your lungs, and the next…the car doesn’t make it around
the bend. Driving on pavement or grass all feels the same at that speed.
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