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For Halloween in 1960, I dressed as an election booth
festooned with Kennedy stickers & buttons.
If you’re a woman over 60 & someone says
‘coat hanger,’ you don’t just think: laundry.
All those folks who didn’t vote, thinking: No worries.
They’re awake now.
Black paint on an old stone house.
Juden Juden. Having that nightmare too?
Take out your blue & red pens. Mark the passages.
Fact in blue, opinion in red. Is that so hard?
Maybe we all need a national civics course
taught by someone we’ll listen to. Volunteers?
Tomorrow I’m meeting an old friend. We’ll fortify
our sorrow with coffee & home fries.
Mullin’s Diner, North Side. 16th Street Bridge,
left on Progress Street.
If you’re not watchful, you’ll miss the turn.
Copyright 2017 Joan E. Bauer
Joan E. Bauer is a poet and activist who lives in Pittsburgh.
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This poem is tightly constructed and Joan nails the ending as only she can. Great job!!
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