Voter Boy*

When I was a boy I wanted to vote;

Why, I did not know;

I went to political rallies next door;  an old schoolhouse;

It was the thing to do,

With farmers,  mechanics,   curious, mothers with babies,  families,  neighbours,

Other kids like me, watching, open-eyed,

Watched with eagle eyes by mothers and old ladies, grandmothers knitting mitts;

When I was a boy I paid attention, and listened, carefully,

Words of hope, eyes wide open, pie in sky,

And the people went mad with delight, strangely entertained by signs,

By strangers with lying lips

Clapping and cheering for sweating,  fat and slippery Soap-Box  Stumpers,

With bold offers of  Utopian life, promises ever savoury,  bright tin badges;

Grits and Tories all,  entertaining hallowed promises of prosperity, jobs and happiness.

When I was a boy, I wanted to vote, and too soon it came;

I became a voter boy,

I heard men make promises they would not keep, turned cold.

When I became a voter boy,

I heard Stumpers Red and Blue speak the same liberal language of convenience.

When I became a voter boy,  I watched lies, deception, and hearts pricked;

Bleeding trust profusely;

Pondered memories of unanswered questions from the past,

The stumping sweat of fear, shifty eyes, embarrassed silence;

Scandal, delusion, willful deception,

Echoes of clapping, entertaining fools drifting home

With egg salad on face,  furrowed brow,  darkness of heart, lies remembered;

When I became a voter boy, I discovered disillusion,  — yes,

—But also how  to think

—For myself.

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*Voter  boy I was, —and I still vote today--but sadly, in decades, nothing much has observably changed in  Canada-  as we participate in the 2015 Federal Election, strangely, and predictably, with high expectations. 

Is that Incoming I hear?