Long roads, the lazy viewing

of houses rushing by.

Gardens full of plenty,

windows bright, reflections

painting curtains with the sky.

Cows, fields with rolls of fodder,

barns - then houses in a row.

Our car moves on impervious

to the lives we cannot know.

I read the washing lines.

So many y-fronts, jeans and socks.

No nappies, so it seems

that only adults live in this neat, cosy box.

Next door so different.

Socks are small, sweaters pink and blue,

petticoats have lace, and aprons flap,

stockings and a skirt or two

lively in the breeze. No trousers.

Single parent? Man away?

Who knows.

They flash into our orbit for a moment in a day.

We give them lives they do not have

then vanish on our careless way.