– 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.
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.