Poetry

Writers are FBI’s Most Wanted

We sit shiftily in our window-side street-side metal seat we call

Comfortable,

But really it’s just aesthetic,

And glance around our hole-in-the-wall fair trade free trade over priced coffeeshop

And pray that no one looks at our sticker backed pastel cased computer screen

And think

Shit, I just found a serial killer

So we just tap our chewed up baby blue nails and sip our twenty ounce all organic

nitro cold brew that burns our tongues and think:

Where is my character going to find a dead dog?

Uh oh…

In that moment our fingers slip on our condensation coated second hand glass

With the ice rattling like our future prison chains

As our eyes meet from across our computer screens

They found me

We think and try to surreptitiously switch from the Google tab to the Pinterest tab

But miss and hit the Youtube tab about how to make a bomb

I’m a writer I swear!

But then you notice them take a sip of their twenty ounce all organic

Nitro cold brew that burns their tongue

And look back down at their sticker backed pastel cased computer screen and we sigh

Another one on FBI’s Most Wanted.

Molly Peterson