Rhythmically different but harmonically intertwined
Mary
My fingers tap
a two-beat rhythm,
echoing
in the quiet car.
Mark’s fingers drum
counterpoint,
creating
an odd effect.
I wonder if he’s doing it
on purpose, to avoid
having
to talk to me,
If he regrets that I’m in the seat
that Stacey usually occupies,
giving
us all the finger.
If I told him what she did to me,
pretending to be nice then
leaving
me on my own,
Would he laugh and call
me pathetic for
being
such a loser?
I’m thinking I should just open
the door and leave,
letting
him off the hook,
When Mark does something
totally unexpected,
making
me wonder
If everything I think about people
is wrong and they’re just
faking
most of the time,
Because next thing I know he
is looking at me sweetly,
asking
me where I live.