Yesterday on the train
I was handed a snack
included in my fare.
A soft almond cookie,
same package as always,
seemingly
sweet and harmless.
I couldn't be more wrong,
my taste buds took a jolt,
too much at 7:30,
a sugar-coated bomb,
a punch of amaretto,
the scent of bitter almonds,
so close to that poison.
What leap of faith
toward a stranger:
the snack-giving waiter.
Those little bites,
mock cyanide,
could be murderous
in another life.
