I wish I could attend your demonstrations!
Although my diary's jam-packed every day
I care about the coming generations:
Believe me, friend, I'm with you all the way.
Each year the price of indecision rises.
I'd like to give your candidate my vote
but my financial analyst advises
that now is not the time to rock the boat.
Your arguments present the issue starkly
and, while the wind caresses it with sleet,
I'm gazing on the double glazing darkly;
The curtain stirs and shivers in the heat;
The cityscape beyond is white and sheeny,
with supplicants in an amorphous mass.
They swirl about like gin in my martini
and press their faces up against the glass,
but since I am no hero, saint or wizard
I take my comfort while the rafters burn.
Outside, the snowstorm strengthens to a blizzard
that melts and slides upon my warm concern.
© Brian Fewster,
Published in For the People, By the People and Poetry Review, 1997
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