Statistical Noise

The cyclist’s wheel missed her hip by a breath,

a hiss of rubber on asphalt at 4:12.

I stood on the curb, a witness to death

that didn't happen, a thing I could delve

into if I weren't so busy forgetting.

I found a receipt in my coat for a lime.

I don't recall buying it, or even getting

into the store. It’s a glitch in the time.

On the train home, a green fruit rolled free,

bouncing off boots and a stranger’s left heel.

It’s a miracle, mostly, that any of us see

the world through the gaps in the steel.