High Visibility

The rain was coming down in sheets

when that yellow coat rounded the corner.

I felt the air go out of my lungs—

the way she walked, that tilt

of the head I haven't seen since

the hospice bed.

But then she turned to look at a bus,

and the face was all wrong.

Too young, too much makeup.

The yellow light reflected in the puddle

was oily and fake.

I stepped into it on purpose

just to break the color.