We Are Cold Under The Vapors by cassandra troyan

My grandmother is watching a talk show.

A woman in the audience excitedly claps and smiles and mouths,
Yes!
There is belief in her eyes.

Went to Meijers.
There were three men in
full army fatigues buying donuts.
One had little glasses perched
on the edge of his nose,
inspecting a cruller.
He seemed pleased.

I walk to another aisle: ice cream.

Frozen yogurt? Really?
Who am I?
Will I eat this?

I will
eat this
against my will.
I will find a
way
to transpose
belief back into my eyes
through
the dry hinge of
my mouth.