To the woman in the car next to me

Perhaps you have forgotten
our weary desperation
last spring
when we strained to remember
the exact shade of
blue
in the sky
on a day
without rain.

Now in June
when long golden rays
press through your window
to kiss your face
and welcome you home
you raise your left hand
dismiss
the intruder
and stare
at the tail lights
of the car in front of you.