The view from a window in the car
Played like dozens and dozens of vignettes
As we passed by
I point and say, “Think of how little of the lives we see
Of each and every person walking by
In those tiny moments when our paths cross
Yet, each life has its own unique story”
I gesture as we travel on
“Or how that tree has felt countless sunrises and sunsets –
All of them the same and not the same”
We drive by a strip mall as my thoughts race out
“Which means our lives are played alongside
As dozens and dozens of other people’s vignettes as they pass by”
You smile and say, “If that’s true
Then we all live countless lives –
An unending chain woven of tiny moments”
“I like that,” I say
But we are already late
So we keep on driving
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