Crash

I'm going to preface this poem by saying, he's fine.
But today, he got into a car crash.

It was his fault.
Just driving home from running some errands,
and a red light didn't seem so red to his head.
Something we both do too often,
Although every other time we've had one another
To say, "Red."

A second too late, he slammed on the breaks.
But hit a car being driven by a girl without a license.

No one was hurt.

The front of his car was ruined.
And with the money situation he has now,
This is not good news.

The insurance will cover the cost of their car repairs, whatever they may be.
But I have a feeling,
His insurance will go up.
And with the money situation he has now,
This is not good news.

But I'm spewing words here.
Thoughts I didn't think of until this screen appeared before me.
I didn't want to start this poem with,
"He's fine, but what if he wasn't?"
Because that's morbid.
But that's all I've been thinking up until this point.

What if he wasn't fine?
I'm two and a half hours away from him.
What if he was hanging dearly onto life?
Would anyone call me?
Could I get there in time if they did?

My mind is capacitated with hospital beds
and tear stained goodbyes.
It is filled with the sound of his voicemail
and speeding up the dark mountain highway
Only to find that the jaws of life must've had a cramp
and they let him slip through the cracks.

What would I do?
Why am I so far away from him?