Sometimes my mother forgets that the traffic lights turn green.
When this happens the other cars pile up behind my back-seat
until I get round to turning my head away
from the window and tell her that the robot isn't red.
Truth be told she does this with her heart songs too.
They suddenly burst into being after past events
pile up and honk their horns and pound on her steering wheel and
cry out to me: "What do your headphones sing that my heart can't?"

Today isn't one of those days.

Today is one of the rare days where
my ears are open to hear her say
that my brother's birthday was today.
Today there are plenty of listless drivers
in front of us going to some nowhere
called somewhere. Today we are
behind as somebody else forgets
about colours in front of us and
Mama gently pedals forward
as the gas powered dominoes
fall back to their homes to see
their children.

I don't know how old he would have been
but I would have taught him how to read.