The Look of Recovery

Some kind of cancer
sat down two tables
away looking like she had
lost weight (but recovering - out
to eat) bandana over
head thin cheeks
and a man with her.
Plates and plates of pasta.
Bread and olive oil.
The restaurant wasn't busy.
After lunch Saturday.

You never know people.
Did not see what car
they drove. We were
finishing our plates and plates.
Paid and tipped and left.

Some kind of cancer, unless I
am wrong. But with the
look of recovery. No one submits
always.

We drove away from the big city into
north highway in afternoon.
Our things were bought.
We drove with cars and cars
away and away from
all
the things of the city.

Like looking into
the windows of
everyone to see
you never know people.