Putting our trust in the most amazing things and withholding it from the obvious . . . what’s that all about?


Talk About Trust

Mornings I hold my electric toothbrush
under cascading floods of water,
applying the paste, jamming one end
into a socket, 240 surging volts
and the other into my mouth
Talk about trust

And driving at night on twisting roads,
I hold steady to a speed far beyond
the range of my headlights,
rounding each curve in peace,
my mind on other things
And it’s trust again that carries me

But my trusting self is controverted,
limited to the things I can’t control,
like airplanes taking off,
pills I swallow and bridges crossed,
the transactions of my life
Accepted, risked without a thought

Yet I lock my house and lock my car,
keeping a hand on my wallet,
aware of my accomplice in the street,
the one who trusts his welfare to strangers,
but wouldn’t stop to light my cigarette
Sharing a faith that’s limited to syndicates

What franchise allows my trusting step
into open elevator-doors, confident
without looking that the elevator’s there,
but causes such a shiver up my spine,
at strangers’ footsteps in the night
So trustful of the many and yet un-trustful of the one

Poetry Collection: Broken Pieces
This poem is included in
Jim Freeman’s
poetry collection
BROKEN PIECES
available here in print
or as an e-Book
in your favorite formats.