Big Data

I'm a drop in the OCEAN to you
don't SHOUT often, but when I do
I'd LIKE to think you are confused
about WHICH box I'd be fit
enough to tick
I would say CLICK here but
you'd be expecting that

I know you know where I go
you know, there's only so many streets
I can long detour down
to keep you guessing, and
they all lead to the same tram
in the end
we're just two lost souls
swimmin' in a fishbowl
and I know you know I hum that
quite a bit

I think I know you
knew, come polling day
I'd get up early
as introverts do, and
ask if there was a vegan option sausage
buy a home made cookie from the cookie stand
and stand with a fistful of candidates
watching a magpie drag
a drinking straw across the yard
beneath the steady gaze of crows
and thinking I should film that
on my phone and post it

Maybe you know, but how can you know
there's something about that
arrangement of crow and my morning body
late spring humidity
and warble of queue conversation
that made me feel the cheek
of a woman on my chest from
so long ago and
the warmth of that spread
to a place in my neck
never since touched
my little place of radio silence

I know you think you knew
which colour I'd pen my allegiance to
so I chose the one with the op-shop clothes
who delivers bread from a bicycle
was friendly to my dog
has read a little Dostoyevsky
and is generally angry
at the world

You certainly know that didn't make a difference
she got 241 votes
and the country got another
rich white guy in an expensive suit
who likes his data big
so so big, he thinks he'll never lose

This poem appears in

Pass it Along