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