Saturday commute xxix: if I consult a face

If I consult a face, as we were lately reminded by Montaigne's question of play with his cat, how shall I know that what I see is not consulting mine? Morever, what shall I be looking for: what I find, or what I seek? If what I see is what I sought, what becomes of what I didn't find?

Crisis.


Thus must I look
for what I find.


Unless I desire
to walk in sleep,
misperceive, mis-
judge, misuse; 
destroy.


Now, what is it,
this Tea Party
feigns to see?

A world where the poor 
are taxed for the rich; 
where justice is 
Calvinist dogma; 
where quite a lot less 
than all retain a place.


At long last this rabid mink indecency is campaigning by confession, one decayed bicuspid at a time.

Call for 

a vote 
on that.