-early february of 2017-

the presidential election didn’t go the way of my vote

and small patches of snow remain on the ground,

most with widening rings of water circling them

on the pavement near the grass of the front yard.

as a curious kid, living across the river who talked to himself

on a daily basis, I’d get down on my hands and knees,

crouching low and zooming-in on the little islands of snow,

pretending to navigate the north pole.

this happened on the sidewalk in front of the house

and I remember it as being convincing enough to be repeated.

I don’t do that anymore.

but I did the same thing in warm weather, peering into

the sharp yellow shoots of meadow grass at eye-level.

an insect happening by was a miraculous sight,

feeling its way through the tall blades, clinging, slipping,
moving onward, the antennae of its head dancing like two
crazy jitterbuggers.

this happened in the overgrowth of the backyard’s vegetable garden.

I don’t do that anymore either, and if I did, 
I wonder how the neighbors would perceive me?

would they see a loony old-timer crawling on all fours

along the road in winter, or along the backyard in summer?
would they be inclined to call the cops?

I think so, and who could blame them?

It was during the time when the bathtub
lost its colorful playground
and washing became what the tub was to be used for,
that I stopped exploring the outdoors alone on my hands and knees,

and instead, utilizing the outside world to bond with early friends,
expanding the geography.

so, the presidential election didn’t go the way of my vote
and although this poem makes mention of this frigid fact,

It pleases me that the body of the poem has nothing positive to say about it.