Suspicion

My mother said: “You can’t go to the fair because there are undesirable people there”.

Little did she know just how many undesirable people a precocious, small, curly-white haired, pretty, little girl could encounter before the age of seven. Or, perhaps she did.

I have never been suspicious,

Because I have always been cautious:

Caution;

But I call it intelligence.

And I avoid situations in which

Intelligence doesn’t seem to count.

I avoid a lot of frustration that way.

No one sees me as suspicious.

I am seen as nice, obscure, intelligent,

In an over there – what is she writing

About -  kind of way,

I am both.

­Poetic Aside on Suspicion:

As a poetic aside - in general;

Regarding citizens of America:

Many now see suspicion as being wholly justified,

And something we need to keep perpetually

In our repertoire of democratic defenses.

(Just to keep one step ahead of the politicians obliterating

The foundations of the social contract).

Not just suspicion but outright rage seems justified -

From ignoring the last thirty years of corporations, politicians,

Siphoning off percentages of every previously hard-earned,

Ethical choice and  benefit that was mistakenly,

Then – that’s right America -

Taken for granted – (working too hard, if you are busy you won’t notice).

So see, you can’t do that.

Caution is a constant searchlight, like the eyes of Ralph Nader,

Roving over the ocean of corruption, greed and bad habits of human beings.

So stalwart is the word; don’t turn off the searchlight,

-And remember the lighthouse.