I Notice

They don't think I notice

They don't think I notice how stingy we're becoming:

They don't think I notice the reluctance to use the propane heat.

They don't think I notice how cold it is when I crawl out of bed every morning.

They don't think I notice the quiet grimace on my father's face as I watch him pay the bills.

They don't think I notice my mom stopping to check her bank account before buying something.

But I notice.

I notice all these things:

They've become facts of life.

Not just facts for some, 

facts for many.

They've shielded me from this dangerous reality

just as other parents shield their children,

but I notice.

No help will come from Washington.

No help will come from Montpelier.

Taxes will go up and wages will stagnate.

Prices will go up and our wallets will become thinner.

"Nobody," Bernie Sanders says,

"Who works 40 hours a week should be living in poverty."

I agree:

when will certain people set their reservations aside,

their greed for power aside,

their personal wealth aside,

their hatred aside,

their xenophobia aside,

and agree with me?

Not soon enough.

Not. 

       Soon.

                 Enough.