Grasshopper Gloss: In Which An Analogy Is Drawn

O grasshoppers, you scoff to see me wave,

That gesture ceding you the right to cross

The concrete -- as though simply that could save

You from becoming just a smear, a gloss

Upon the Greenway's surface. No, you wait

Or fly away in haste. There's wisdom there.

Likewise, e'en though I know that many hate

My firm refusal of concern and care

Some motorists extend on city streets

That I traverse, that cut across my path.

I trust you not, as memory still bleats

Distress at one who waved, then hit me. Hath

We come to this, assuming evil of

Those who might truly mean us naught but love?

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