Being Moved On
With his small and uniformed mind
he looks at me with eyes unkind.
To my virtues, he is blind.
I’m visiting my old university.
I’m on the campus, under a tree
where my laptop can get electricity.
I’ve polished a poem in this nook
and run a program while I read book.
But he just doesn’t like my look.
His mind has no box for me.
His badge says he’s Security.
He tells me I must leave my tree.
I explain to him I break no rule;
I am just visiting my old School.
But power, not reason, is his tool.
So I go and think what a shame
that a boorish guard can stain the name
of a place that heralds Reason’s reign.
Copyright Jack Keegan 2020