Where do I place the cross,

the age old question of democracy

to which a flipped coin,

smooth and pointless upon either

side, will invariably come down

after spinning in the air

like a cold mechanical Catherine

Wheel, defiance in the face of all the odds

down on its side, the universe

goading you

into believing there is a third way.

 

Place the x, remember the feeling

when you believed in heart and soul

that it meant to change

your life

but then the feeling withered