JACOB McARTHUR MOONEY (Toronto)

Yes. I understand now that I have misread everything.
Or I have been misread.

Unless the clutter-stock, the Mad magazines and
Forbes annuals and the notes I wrote myself in passing,
Underlined at every passage where I felt the
Civic resolve weaken, unless these were the documents that

Knew me, all along,

I have been lied to a little and it looks like I liked it.

New-men,
Going forward,
Don’t condescend to me.
I know my votes were counted. I counted them myself.
Can you crayon an America that doesn’t flex for ruin?
Kingdoms don’t perpetuate their kings.

Whatever will become of us,
At least I’ll remember the dates.
Don’t remind me. I know it will be January always.