Smiles Pass

She waits
in the lot
a crossover
that carries kids
to school, to soccer.
A black sedan
slides beside,
breath quick in
ambivalent anticipation.
She slides onto
black leather.
Nervous smiles pass

She answers his

call, working late.
Again, and
child to bed,
and dinner away
while he watches
the other
waiting. He walks,
slipping their promise
from his finger,
into the bar.
Familiar smiles pass.

She knocks shy

on the door,
glancing left to
right in a
dim anonymous hall. 
Inside he takes
another sip of
courage and moves
and a door opens
to her scent,
her eyes wanting.
Surrendered smiles pass

for comfort
for love
for truth.