There were long but very orderly lines at the polling place this morning. I hung out with Carl, a neighbor, who arrived just ahead of me. We talked about motorcycles as we waited in line. Carl drives a big Harley on his daily commute between here and Red Wing, which is a lovely drive most of the year. I saw lots of folks I know and hundreds I didn't. It was a pleasant way to experience direct democracy.
I'm not sure why, but the scene reminded me of this Brautigan poem, from "The Octopus Frontier" (his 2nd collection, published in 1960).
The Fever Monument
I walked across the park to the fever monument.
It was in the center of a glass square surrounded
by red flowers and fountains. The monument
was in the shape of a sea horse and the plaque read
We got hot and died.
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