The driver behind me is singing,
her smiling face awash in morning sunlight,
she could be Pandeia, visiting earth,
exuding youth and health,
her slim hands keeping time on the wheel.
As the song ends, she reaches down,
soft curls falling over her forehead,
as she brings her hand to meet her lips
and takes a drag on a cigarette,
evaporating into the sacrificial smoke.
©2013 Noreen Braman
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