Saturday Night

Driving alone on this Saturday night
Reminds me of that tragic night of destiny.
In a flash three innocent lives ended
Violently in a crash that took them by surprise.
In that millisecond there had been
No possibility of saving those lives.

Gone for those three was a chance at fulfilling their dreams in life
Since one thoughtless teen went crazy that night,
Speeding in a drunken stupor on Florida's dark roads he had been,
Unaware of the car that would change his destiny.
In the other car, four people received an awful surprise,
Colliding with the drunkard, and three met their ends.

It may have been (for the deceased) a quick end.
Death predominated the scene, but two still had life.
Evenings like this are too common in the Sunshine state, no longer a surprise.
In spite of that fact, the fight for stopping this mess began that night.
No one imagined this to be the survivors' intwined destiny.
Fate paired them in the longest fight there could be.

Lenient to alcohol-no parent should be,
Or they may see their children meet similar ends.
Reminders of court appearances that shape new destinies,
Indictments that alter the courses of the killers' lives-
Damnations these are for partying on Saturday night
And not thinking about the consequences that shouldn't be so surprising.

Over the years, I'm no longer surprised,
Nor do I approve of what has come to be
So typical in Florida on Saturday nights.
All I want is this hedonism to end,
To encourage people to be less precarious with their lives...
Unless they want to write strife into their destinies.

Rarely would anyone want such a rough destiny
Despite some say they thrive on surprises.
All I know is drunk driving's not how I want to end my life,
Yet many in Florida continue to be
Nothing but crime statistics in the end.
It all simply starts with a hedonist on Saturday night.

Grieving are those who that night saw a sad destiny:
Hacked out of a car that met its end in a metallic surprise.
To those surviviors, things will never be the same for the remaining, gruelling days of their lives.

Written in memory of Sarah Stone, Alexandra Quaroni, Jennifer McKinney and McKinney's uncle, all victims at the drunken hand of Stephen Bromstrup. This wreckless act of drunken driving caught my attention because it finally exposed the evils I knew lurked in the teenage populace of my hometown and county of Stuart in Martin County, Florida. This incident made me feel guilty of not coming forth to the proper authorities with my knowledge, and as a college student, I still sometimes feel pangs of guilt and shame knowing I was a teen raised in Martin County, notorious for having some of the highest substance abuse rates among teens in the nation. I am hopeful that one day this will change in my county. Until then, I hope my words serve as a warning of both the consequences of drunk driving and why Florida is not a safe place for families.

For more information on the poem, see "The Sestina" , "Acrostic"  and "Saturday Night" .