Voting

I’m off to vote, which I frequently do against my better judgment…

Someone I knew once used to say, “I never vote. It only encourages them.” A lot of times, I think he was right.

But I always vote, because somewhere in me is a tiny optimist struggling to get out, and it’s one of the few times he gets to stick his head up for air.

I think in another country and another place, I’d be a bomb thrower, a gunslinger. Thomas Jefferson’s stated belief that democracy needs to be renewed with bloodshed every twenty years or so (and yes, he was talking about the US) resonates with me…sometimes, the issues we deal with seem to me to be best dealt with with iron and blood, not a paper ballot or a campaign sign.

But I’m not that guy. I’m an American, a sensibly shod fat guy in need of a shave who writes poetry and thinks too hard about things and hopes like hell he’s wrong most of the time.

So I’ll vote, and let my inner optimist breathe, and leave the dream of smashing the state for another time.

But I’ll have a knife in my pocket, just in case.