troopers

a gaggle of state
troopers
sit in the coffee shop
that you visit
every morning for
your jump start
of caffeine
and stale pastry.
they are dressed
in pressed greys
and blues, with hats
lying on the tables
they have pushed
together.
the older ones are
red faced and full
in the waist,
thick necks
folded over
their tight collars.
you suspect that the
trouble they've seen
has made them eat
badly.
a woman cop
joins them, her hair
pulled back into
a thin blonde pony
tail, she wears glasses,
and nods a lot
while sipping
her cup. when she speaks,
they all agree
with what she says,
they include her as they
laugh and talk shop,
no one speaks to them,
and they offer no
hellos or waves
to anyone, they are
separated by guns
on their belts, crackling
speakers attached
to their shoulders.
you feel a darkness
in their protection,
the blue lights on
their cars, unlit for
the moment under
the falling snow.