I doubt the pundits, in referring to
enthusiasm gaps, include the one
between my old self and my new, the way
I used to be like driftwood caught in eddies,
while now it seems I've hit the rapids, jigging
a jive downstream, not even anxious what
the end will be. And, too, the hard-nose rage
I thought sustaining all those years has turned
as giddy as a child expecting gifts.
I walk the street and whisper blessings toward
the people that I meet—quite silly, yes,
though just as reasoned as the daily polls
intent on aiding some agenda, nondisclosed,
that pits us one against the other.