your watch is broken - we have all the time in the world.
the two tired vocies are constructing a symphony louder
than the conductor on the tape deck. songs of love and
talent fill the roaring air, lost in the fluorescent-lit
night - is this right? confusion: teeth-chattering, hand
on a thigh, which direction-what turn; i see a fifty-five
sign zoom past my right shoulder and my heart
paces 'cause i haven't had fun in two weeks. your
grandmother enjoys our friendship, too bad we're not
friends, we're actors wearing our masks (comedy = you
whereas tragedy = me) and giving the 'illusion' for
everyone to criticize.
later on, racing the damned curfews, you hug hairpins
and we laugh when the Lincoln hugs double yellow lines.
mindless conversation drowns out infinite silence.
for once, you think i'm pretty... and pretty okay
(maybe it's the moonlight). you know you'll
never have a chance because i'm different. my
taco bell dinner is in my throat as you pull
into the drive - it's an awkward 'goodnight'
full of umms and thank-yous. as you pull out,
you drive in the neighbors' yard, something i've
only dreamed of... moonlight on tire tracks.
- Jacqueline C. Audrey
