The perfect timing

I press play.

morning light slips through the blinds.

five minutes till the bus.

I count the beats,

tap the table,

muttering the lyrics under my breath like a mantra.

the song is perfect,

the time --- not so much.

halfway through the bridge,

my backpack nudges the floor,

the strap tangling in my foot. 

I hit pause.

too early.

a sigh. rewind.

again.

 again.

  again.

chorus swells

I swing the door open.

bus horn blares,

and the beat drops.

maybe I’ll never leave on time.

but this might be the real chorus

I was meant to hear.