the world keeps spinning

there is an indian woman
walking down the side of the road
full flowing gown and head dress
but i can see her eyes,
that's how i know, and
she's talking on the phone,
animated, giving it to the other party
and i wonder what she will do
when she sees the dead dog
in the ditch, head turned
over his shoulder, looking back,
perhaps to see who hit him
but that unsuspecting woman is
home, embroiled in strife
for taking a life, already in distress
for putting her kids on the bus
this morning, but they will be okay,
their teacher is playing games
so they can learn each others names
when johnny stands up and asks
in his loud outside voice to go to
the bathroom, but he really just
wants to get out of class and sneak
a peek at whats for lunch
on the pink flier taped on the wall
by the door to the cafeteria
and maybe get a smile from Mrs Morris
the lunch lady, but she is outside
on the stoop sucking in the last
little bit of her cigarette,
before the rush and
laughing at the custodian trying
to get off the phone with his wife
an indian lady walking down the
side of the road, surprised to see
a dead dog and i am still stuck in
traffic, trying to get home,
when she turns, looks me right
in the eyes and smiles, for
no apparent reason, at all,
other than we are all human.

Written for Imperfect Prose and Theme Thursday.