Where there is doubt, there is
information stacked upon data
shoved in between factoids
that I catch and lob back.
If you could just open your mind, he says
you could begin to believe the evidence.
Air brakes expel, he ducks
as if shot at, we normalize
the moment for passersby
who flip us weird or pity.
If you could believe the evidence, he says
eventually your mind would begin to open.
Where is radical cool? Frequently
missed across the dial, surely.
I catch and lob back white noise
squelching as ever-retreating loss.
Sad face, he says. You are too skeptical.
You can't believe evidence way back there.