There is a certain rhythm to life

A way things work

I have ten minutes till class

And a long distance to go

But I’m not worried

The rest of the world matches my pace

They too are in a hurry

Before my eyes people cross and wind around each other

Never bumping, never disturbing

It’s like a beautiful dance played before me everyday

Now it’s my turn to dance

I turn right just one step before that energetic blond girl continues straight behind me

She’d be quite beautiful, striking really, except for her habit of chewing her face while walking

I think it’s a nervous habit

She must be very nervous

I continue on in my new direction

A step faster, but so is everyone else

I’m almost there

I see the steps ahead of me

For every step up hunchback boy takes one down

It’s like the changing of the guards

Me for him

I often wonder how he knows where he’s going

He never looks up and his shoulders are so slumped to the sidewalk that his book bag very much resembles a hump

I wonder what pain and suffering he has endured

The thought passes and into class I go

I sit as the lecture begins

Everything in order

Everything right

 

Today my rhythm is off

Everyone’s rhythm is off

I have eight minutes instead of ten

I quicken my pace

But everyone else is a step behind

I try to weave in and out

But that slows me further

I discover that the beautiful dance I enjoy so much is actually a living, breathing being that traps all in its expanding and contracting

I bump shoulders and trip

Wildly I break right, eager for the quickened pace, running right into chewing face girl

Picking myself up, I apologize continuing on

Although, now in my daze, I’m a step behind

I struggle to keep up

Finally I see my steps and break free

Although my hunchback has long since gone

How did the guards change without me?

Did someone take my place,

Or did he just abandon his post with no sign of relief?

Shaken I enter the lecture hall

The lesson has begun

My seat is taken

I spot one

In the middle

I hate making a scene, but I must

Or go home

Scuse me, scuse me, pardon me

I sit

All eyes on me

The world is out of

Its rhythm