The moon was full, so bright, illuminated the dark sky, outshining all the street lamps and city lights.

The necklace of buildings, strung together, with windows of precious stones, from inside, shining yellow and white .

Forevermore, were there cars filling the lanes, like a colony of ants, rushing and speeding into their respective homes,

But every single one of them different, in shape, size, structure or color, to each one their own .

As I sat inside, watching from the back seat of my father’s black SUV, I wondered, as I saw,

in a white pickup truck, was a wife smiling at her husband, and him gesturing happily, oblivious to each other  none of their flaws.

To their new home they must have gone, to their waiting children, so perfect, a happy loving family all they ever wanted.

As my car inched up a little to the front, a sleek, shiny car passed up front, in which a couple sat, their looks so haunted.

Facing away from each other, they in solemn silence, expression grave, emitting a negative vibe,

They had it all the money, the riches, the house, even each other, but some time to spare; they had none by side,

Thus it lead to problems, several, and for all they know, the other was not even normal, regret staining their decisions,

As we inched up even further, the grey metal of taxi shone into view, with a lonely cab driver, on that day, his last mission,

Too tired, uniform crumpled, he left out a sigh, running his fingers through his hair, wondering of the things to come,

To go home, rest for the night, eat the last piece of his weekly stale bread, make the weekly call to his home,

To his wife, tell her he missed every night and day, to his unborn child all his love, and his sick mother, that he would be back soon.

And as my father pushed down the accelerator, I glimpsed the last car in row, parents and the two children staring at the moon.

As the father explained the science of the moon and planets to his elder son, the mother smiled, seeing behind through the lens

at her little daughter scrunching her nose, trying to understand ,as complicated words of her beloved dada ,to her made no sense.

I looked into my car, since the speeding, blurred everything on the outside, my sister beside me, my parents in the front,

She in her own world of music, with earphones plugged, exactly like me, and my parents talking over the radio news, redundant.

In this big city, we all are somehow connected, by circumstance or choice.

But to each our own, every passing life.


-The views from my car window at night, and my imaginations of the other passing lives