A poem written on the deck

I like meeting people
superficially on the run
"The wild fires are terrible!"
"How about that thunderstorm!"

when I don't know if
the guy is a pedophile
or has his mother-in-law
chopped up in pieces
in the freezer
or if she is like the lady
in Psycho on the run
with the money

when all I know is that
they are pleasant enough
and easy to talk to
about nothing important
and we nod and smile

and humanity feels like
a really great place
to hang out in