I saw Susan at the Polls. she kept her head down, 

her hands nestled softly inside her coat. 

occasionally her eyes would drift to the men

who stood in camouflage with their hands

sitting protectively on the leather holsters

that attached to their American-made jeans. 

I lost eye contact as I made my way through

the line of people who waited patiently,

like lambs to the slaughter. 

as I filled out my ballot, my ears picked up

the sound of a brawl outside the booth.

making my way out, I noticed that

Susan had begun to walk towards the street. 

Hello Susan I waved as I grabbed my “I voted” sticker.

she smiled back, uttering a soft Hello in return, 

her voice sounded almost haunting, as if 

she was grieved by her circumstances. 

Is something wrong?

Oh, darling, she turned and began to walk 

away, but with one swift pivot she looked back,

everything is wrong.