I find myself quarreling with her for the tardiness
-as if I had somewhere to be.
Cut from the same cloth, her and eye
but with different scissors
Her intricacies and quirks occasionally stymie but
most of the time clop along
side by side with mine, a sort of menage-a-trois
Bonnie and Clyde and Yoshihisa Maitani
I pick the radio station and she minds the map.
Being my senior
she pretends to know best but
we both know the grim truth:
there's a reason we rely on each other.
People who live in glass houses should
open the shutters, I guess
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