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Poem

Bathed in delightful unknowingness I keep to myself.
I am not tempted to jump into the sewer of negativity I see unfolding 
The pool that often times seem to saturate and permeate this pack.
I refer to them as the negative three, but only to myself as
Everything you say gets back to everyone. 
I am old enough to have learned this the hard way a hundred times already.

Hey! One yells. Come join us. We are working on a little petition.
They are always working on a little petition against somebody.
For all I know this time it is against me; they have just forgotten.
I smile, and give them a jaunty, happy wave, friendly-like, but keep walking.

One of them says something and they laugh.
From experience I know they are not laughing in a good way.
I dare not hasten my steps, for when bullies smell fear, this is
When they chase you down and cut your jugular.

I am not even smug at my self-power, 
Or even my escape prowess. I know the smallest nuance of worry
Could ignite and instigate the Negative Three.
They have tentacles that twist and gnarl, 
They used to be a lot farther-reaching than they are now.
People have their “number”.

Mob-mentality almost always re-directs the weak.
I congratulate myself as I get out of sight, 
Escaping from the three who disparage people rather than ideas,
Three who are always on a “feeding frenzy” to “get” someone.
I am glad and relieved that I am a lone wolf.

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