A Counter Clockwise Dance in Reverse

Counter Clockwise.
Middle finger on her
Left hand-
Marred with one long white cat-scratch-scar-
Unlike its counterpart.

Twirling, twirling, round-
Around
And around
And around-
Always counter clockwise.
Like a whirlpool far at sea.
Instead of waves of blue and green,
Honey and creme are sucked
Deep into the core of the cyclone.

One nail snags into
Her hair and she
Scrunches up her nose-
A rabbit wiggling to smell-
Disgruntled,
And dislodges her finger
From the tangled mess
She's made of her hair.

She goes back to reading her book.

A smile slowly spreads my mouth
As the girl I've never met
Begins to twirl her
Always counter-clockwise cyclone
Of fingers meshed into hair
In her anxious habit of study.
___________________________________________________________________

I feel her gaze drop from me,
To return to her math. She punches
The numbers into her calculator
As if they just personally insulted her
And sighs defeated because math
Clearly isn't her best subject.

She rakes her fingers
Through her hair- Exasperated.
She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth
And I quickly turn because, like always,
Her gaze rises back up to me.

I wrap my hair tighter around my fingers
As I feel her gaze linger on me.
Always.

I know her eyes soften
And I know she smiles again
And I know she looks back to her book
And I know she has reconciled with the homework.

She's consistent.
She's habitual.
She's fascinating.
And perhaps

She could be the calm
I need to match my storm.