I spot her in my passenger sideview mirror.
I’m stopped, waiting for a car and a pedestrian to clear.
I can’t quite believe what I’m seeing in the mirror,
so I try swinging around in my seat to check if she’s as close as she appears.
Blinded by the bright glow of her huge truck’s reverse lights,
I sense she’s indeed quite close, brace myself, and we have contact.
She goes back into the parking stall, dismounts from her truck, phone in hand, talking,
I assume, to someone, probably her insurance agent, about the accident.
I take a photo of her license and insurance card,
as she does mind, chattering and laughing all the while.
She and someone are making plans for shopping and dinner.
Nodding to me, she returns to her car blathering away,
mounts and guns the engine to life, then is gone.
She’s a babbler, that one, and me, I’m speechless.