Tailgate

I never meant to follow so closely.

It was never my aim to ever emulate,
much less allow myself to be in the vicinity of
implicating actions.

But there was the unquestionable allure
that I couldn’t deny or resist
so I stole glances when I could afford the charade
and I made, subconsciously, mental notes
while I watched out of the corner of my eye
every word and deed that could incriminate
only for substance
and observational purposes, I promised.

I never meant to tailgate,
never meant to realize she would turn out so fake,
certainly never meant to emulate.

And not a day sooner than foretold,
I overtook.