The Ballot

Everyone is telling, practically yelling at me to exercise my right to vote.

“You know,”

They say:

“You know there are places in the world where you cannot cast your vote.”

I want to say back:

“Fuck, cast me over there then. Like a fucking loose line on a fly rod.”

But I don’t.

And I usually vote.

And guess what?

Not a damn fucking thing ever changes.

The candidates are all the same with a few minor variations, tucking away their wolf’s clothing until shortly after Inauguration Day.