Poem

In the drive thru line
Marysa shotgun, Joey in back
complaining again.
I don't want Taco Bell, he says
I'm thirsty.
Ahead of us a bumper sticker
some crap about Christ and hell
and how we have to choose
I pick Jesus, Marysa says
What about you?
She waits patiently for my answer
with perfect blue eyes
and face like fresh pancake batter
It's hard to imagine she'll ever face the Dark
or feel differently about such things
She says, well?
I say
I don't know about that stuff
(because I don't)
I say,
Sorry.
She smirks like I'm crazy
like it's so square peg=square hole. Hello?
Shaking her head as a voice behind us says
He chooses Sprite