Canvassers

The old white van stops,
atremble, at an intersection,
in the snowy suburban
nightscape, hanging onto
its last breath, its driver
careful to keep the motor
running for fear that, once
turned off, it will not start
again, while one of the
people inside looks around
at other passengers with
a look of ironic solidarity
before sliding open the
door and bailing out into
hostile territory, armed
with nothing but a pen
and a clipboard full of
statements to support
saving baby harp seals
and fighting acid rain.