The Girl In Choir

The Girl In Choir

She is a bizarre character,
trudging in her three-hundred-dollar jeans and Uggs.
Her thick-framed glasses frame eyes that will never meet yours.
Her sense of humour is perverse,
drawing cartoons that only she would find comical
in the margins of her music.

She arrives every day smelling of cigarettes
and we wonder why she is here.
Today, just like most other rehearsals,
she has no music.

I am not singing.
She cannot look on with me.
She asks to borrow my music.
I say no.

She sits back in her chair,
drops her screwed-up face in her hand,

and cries.