She sits in her black SUV,
A well-coiffed woman I know vaguely,
Cell phone open, pressed to chin, not ear.
What is in her head as she stares pensively,
Looking toward the store but not at it?
Who is she on this sunny afternoon?
Days lie expansively ahead,
Reopened with the schools.
What will fill her time?
(My daughter ran to meet her friends today,
Waiting for her at the appointed corner.
They walked together, confidingly.
They do not think of mothers or what
fits into the space they held in us.)
She is still staring as I drive away.
Now I am pensive, too.