The woman in the black Kia doesn't mind driving in the morning, sometimes her husband kisses bending down beside the lights aglow to reach her steady face tall, from the other side, he walks that way around to a meeting at the trunk as if again on the playground, (there was less concrete then) still backpack in tow, he saunters round the corner maybe going anywhere or just far enough out, to missing her, 'til bells ring to find home