coffee talk

the man who approaches me
in the coffee shop
as I grumble to myself about
there being no half and half
on the counter
asks me what my politics are.
you aren't for trump are you,
he says, sizing me up, as
I step away and put the empty
container on the counter.
huh, I say. what?
you want to build a wall,
he says. who will mow your
lawns, watch your children,
clean your rooms, paint
your houses. huh? I say again,
looking more deeply into his
eyes to see if he's as dangerously
crazy as he's beginning to sound.
I paint houses, I tell him. so
I guess i'll do that.
finally getting the new
cold canister of half and half, i pour
it and stir sugar into my coffee,
i secure the lid, then take a sip.
the man hasn't gone away.
he's closer. in my face.
you want trump, he asks again.
no, I tell him, actually I
don't like either one of those
weasels. so my answer is no.
I have post traumatic syndrome,
he says. I fight for your
country and you want to kick
me out. why is that?
listen, he says loudly,
come over here and sit
down with me. let's discuss
this. ummm. no. I have to go
to work I tell him. I have this
thing called a job.
but it's been lovely talking
with you. good luck with
everything, maybe have those
meds adjusted.