the café reeks
of dead matches
& stale cigarettes;
my mouth tastes
like a salmonella sandwich
& all i got is a cold cup of coffee
& yesterday’s paper.
a bible study group
congregates at the next table,
there is at least a dozen of them,
young, tattooed & pierced
sipping on skinny caramel lattes
& cappuccinos; their heads nod
in unison to a chorus of “AMENS”
while their eyes blaze
with pent-up holy-fire
begging to be released.
they join hands & engage in
a round of prayer
that gradually disintegrates
into conspiratorial whispers
stifled giggles
suspicious glances
& i am seized
by a sudden paranoia
& my imagination runs amok:
‘are they a doomsday cult?’
‘are they planting the seeds of
a terrorist crusade for god?’
there is a tension in the air
as one of them points
at a maroon chevy
in the parking lot
& mutters something
about the offensive ‘DARWIN’
bumper sticker & how the owner
is going to burn in hell
& then there is a round
of hideous snickers, amens,
& hallelujahs.
i get nervous & want to leave
but i am too afraid
because that is my maroon chevy
& i don’t want to become the 1st casualty
of their holy war.