All those years ago I shook
off student apathy, joined
my friend and marched.
We marched in solidarity,
joining hands and minds
fist pumping in the same
money grabbing direction.
I think of our fresh faces
thrown by the three wise men
from polling booth number one
into number two. We thought we
could smudge yellow paint in through
the letter box at number ten.
We did but our fingers became trapped
and the yellow mixed with the blue
not making green.
Later I wondered whether we did
anything at all, whether that piece
of paper fell away behind a dusty cabinet
Systematically I think
we’ll just not vote for the same faces
and the amalgamation of
We’ll tell them we aren’t happy.