Failure to Yield

The phrase totally underplays the impact
of having your lovely red Alero T-boned by a guy 
in a white Mazda with incredibly low mileage
on his life. Four eyewitnesses volunteer their numbers
before the guy himself shows up fifteen minutes later,
saying it took that long to find parking.

This unlikely delay screws up the police dispatcher
and adds two hours to getting processed at the Collision
Reporting Centre, somewhere just south of Ungava Bay.
Nobody apologizes for anything because it might be
misconstrued as a confession. Your dreams
become redundant slow-mo replay time-loop leaps

through overgrown Day-Glo underbrush. You spend
the next three weeks hoping the insurance adjuster
will agree to repair your car. You want their offer
to mirror the good life you don’t deserve
but still feel you’ve earned. But it’s cheaper and easier
for them to simply write it off.

You wonder why you even need a car.
Luckily, you get a deal on a three-year-old Corolla.
Barely broken in, which is almost fun, except
it feels like Mazda guy has plundered your savings.
Still, whatever you were planning, you’re better off.
After all, choices can’t stay parked forever.