3/6
…and it hits, exposing not entropy but order:
Deceptively simple order of physical space.
Order in every place except for the hospital.
The coliseum is a proper lonely ruin,
Wrung of people.
A fresh threat has joined us. Directing traffic,
Gradually sweeping the streets,
It is eerie how it chooses not to speak.
The government tells us to be responsible.
They will not help, although they will pretend.
They and we both know it, unfortunately.
And folks take care of their own, in a wary shuffle.
Nodding at each other perhaps,
But with distance intact.
When everything becomes normal again,
Normal will no longer be the right word for everything.
If everything were normal? What a frightful bore.
Shows on TV, conferences, organized sports.
Palatable distractions, and possibly nothing more.
3/13
It is easy to be irritable in throngs of traffic.
But what if that traffic is gone,
And in place is the threat?
And if you think too hard,
Tug the strings,
It all unravels:
Clean water, garbage pickup, the internet.
Is that the threat?
Amenities snatched?
Creatures of habit, we deal in certitude,
And this is a reminder that two things are certain:
Taxes (extended three months),
And (of course) death.
I decided years ago to appreciate my lot,
As if that was enough,
As if that absolved me.
It’s better than some do,
I used to tell myself.
(I may still tell myself this).
(At times, I make myself sick.)
3/21
My son is obsessed with manhole covers.
He fills them with sticks as he sits in the street.
He staggers towards home when I mention ma-ma.
The sun is shining. A few days to spring.
I know we are lucky. It feels like a sin.
