Too Late

The day you die
Will begin like any other day

You will search for your ringing phone in the darkness
And lazily dismiss the alarm

You will lay awake in bed
And wonder if you can't be just a few minutes late for work today

You will reach for your phone
And look through your unread messages
- your little sister is asking for money (again)
- the bank has debited you another fraudulent stamp duty fee
- your favourite salad place is doing buy-one-get-one-free parfaits

You will think about your mother
And decide to call her in the evening

You will crawl into the bathroom
And wait for the water to run warm

You will think about saying a morning prayer
And decide you're running late

You will walk into the kitchen
And eat two bananas, have a cup of Milo

You will leave the house
And lock the door

You will get to the gate, forgot you locked the door, and return to open and lock the door

You will get into your car
And turn the radio on

*

On Third Mainland Bridge
The man driving the Corolla next to you is not concentrating
He's on the phone with his boss
His boss is yelling
He can't hear her properly
The network is fluctuating
His phone falls in between the seats
He reaches for it
The car rams into the curb
It flips

You see it all
Play out in slow motion
Right before your eyes

You freeze
You think about saying a prayer
You decide it's too late