I am counting lies you’ve
told me. I have gone back to the day I
met you. You said you liked the way I sang.
One. I am thinking about the beer
you shared with me that night as we
watched Sinuhe fight out in the street with
strangers. He had a craving for excitement and
jumping into someone else’s fight sated
him. One man had a bicycle chain.
I didn’t even like beer, that was a lie
I told you. Two. It got later and later,
we were the only ones left and you
drove me home. Sinuhe was drunk,
of course, he was always drunk,
and the music still hung in the air. We’d
played together even though you didn’t
know my songs. It took awhile before
you stopped to pay attention to
what I was doing, I kept telling you
you sounded too happy and you didn’t know
what happy guitar was, but you learned.
You told me we were only friends. Three.
Good friends. The best of friends. I
could trust you. Four. You would
never lie to me. Five.
by Cher Bibler