by Charles Troob
Near the corner of Doubt and Trust
a dangerous intersection where boys playing stickball
are routinely knocked down by speeding garbagemen
turning left without signaling
I saw a woman on her bicycle texting intimations
of the apocalypse to her broker–
or so I fantasized, from the tense but beatific way
she clutched her iPhone while pedaling.
I was sitting in the Starbucks on Trust.
I’d gone there to ponder
that morning’s disinformation and to digest
the falafel I’d purchased off a truck with
a sticker saying, “We all eat the same food,
so why can’t we get along?”
It sat in my stomach with the over-roasted coffee
answering its own question.
She took a right on Doubt and sped away.
I wanted to run after her
but I had this poem to finish
while my gut settled itself.
Charles Troob wrote these for Sarah White’s poetry group. Occasionally he gets lucky and something good comes out. Enjoy!
