I can’t tell if she’s listening to music.
The woman beside me, sat in her car,
eating a burger and chips, face lit
by the dashboard, staring toward
the black abyss of the parking lot.
Faint, ahead of us both, a father leads
his daughter across the inky pitch
of empty space. They trace the line
markings like tightropes, wave
to balance, ease their speed to steady.
I like to think that it is classical music.
The father and daughter dance to it
in their muted steps. Their silent laughs.
And – he loses balance, vanishes from
the spotlight of a lamppost. She is alone.
Then, he steps back in. Holds her hand.