in for a penny

I was already late
to your show,
having survived a
white-knuckle Via ride
where I was mentally
nudging the traffic
the whole way;
eking down 5th Avenue
at a snail’s pace,
with a cranky driver
and far too many
pickups and dropoffs.
every minute past
the hour was another piece
I was missing. or so I
thought.

when I finally
arrived, late and exhausted
from my short day
of doing nothing,
I knew you would bust my balls
for showing up late
almost as much as
not showing up
at all. so I decided
I might as well take three
more minutes to inhale
some sweet, sweet carcinogens.

imagine my surprise
when you busted me
smoking, as you bustled up,
sweating, late
to your own show.

on the one hand, clearly
I missed nothing.
on the other hand, my
obnoxious self-indulgence
was revealed when I thought
at least it would be subsumed
under my general egotism
and ridiculous, perpetual
lateness. shall we call it
a win-win?