– April 30, 2020

I wait in line on the sidewalk — six feet apart,

I wear a mask and blue rubber gloves.

The mask is handmade. Purple hemp.

Lavender lace elastic bands.

There is a shortage of medical supplies.

I am handed a cart sanitized with alcohol and chlorine.

Nonchalance and fear mingle in the air.

Inside bare shelves, reminiscent of wartime stories.

Toilet paper. Vitamin C. All purpose flour. Gone.

I play a game of red-light-green-light

but avoiding others.

Walking down solitary aisles – glances askance.

In this just released sci-fi movie called New Normal.

At the register I am summoned to stay away.

They bag for me, using their bags.

Fearing contamination.

No longer praise for bringing my own bag.

Body language on alert. A new code.

Social distancing. Staying vigilant.

Unknown to our age-old human senses.

Seeking warmth, touch, smell, life.