I saw a woman peeling an orange at a traffic light and thought of you.
She had the orange on top of the steering wheel,
a small, tight little thing, but she worked at it.
Her mouth was open, and she bent forward with her eyes on the light.
I could see the juice on her chin and that’s what made me think of you.
Her little breakfast.
She looked like a bird, agitated.
Pecking at the peel.