Community is what community gets, I don't think Trump is inevitable,
I know it's a surprise to discover that perhaps it's inevitable that some
are surprised to think he's inevitable but you can snow in a car with surprise
and days later the snow has a patina, the crust of the street which finds its
way back to the street again by spring, by then you can perhaps
imagine surprise has become a coin endlessly spinning,
set in play by magnets of acceptance and resignation.
Still, knee deep in snow that has yet to acquire its patina,
I'm watching homely parents knocking about on bin lids,
babies rolling and when the car that just attempted to
handbrake turn around the corner announces itself
again, the saw of its tampered exhaust from up the hill,
I think only of my hands greedily wrapping
around the driver's head and
smashing their face into the steering wheel,
whilst parents, babies, ragged sleds, lunch boxes,
insurance policies are stacking up against the fence that seems
to keep all of this from further peril,
I've noticed I'm on the road side of this fence
and pushing against it.
My violence, their disregard,
my responsibility and to whom.