In the dark just-pre-dawn light,
I am sitting at a red stoplight,
At the edge of a town and an agricultural preserve.
The contours of hills are only just becoming distinct.
I glance in my rear-view mirror.
Behind me is an old, beat-up Toyota Corolla.
A couple is sitting in the front seats, barely illuminated.
They quickly lean over and peck eachother on the lips,
Before the light turns green,
And they drive on to their jobs picking Avocados from the groves
That grow outside of town.