One day when we sit in that car

I'm in a traffic jam, I don't know where, it could be Germany, it could be France, we are all locked away in our cars. Some are payed for, some are not, some are old, some are new, this morning nobody moves. We thought we were on our way, well, we are not. Suppose we all take a peep at each other to see if somebody really do eat the bogey. I see a couple, man and woman, so used to each other, to the traffic jam, to the wednesdays, the pyjamas, the children, the toothpicks, the football match on television, the nicotine chewing gum, the little scar by his lower lip, her once so green eyes. He changes radio channel, she looks out of the window. If it wasn't for the traffic jam they would be at work by now. Later they will go to the supermarket, pick up the children, prepare the dinner, tidy up, do the laundry, answer the phone, worry about a bill, at the end of the day a goodnight kiss on a forehead. This is their undisturbed moment together. I make a wish. She turns her head and sees the hand fumbling with the radio, his fingers, his wrist, and finally his lips as full and beautiful as yours, she gets a little shy, it's such a sudden desire.