Three Hours in Heaven, Twenty Minutes Somewhere Else

One runner,
Six bikers not drafting,
One dude getting ready to mow
While his kid played with chalk
In the driveway,
Eight people,
That’s all I saw on my run today,
Three hours
And I only saw eight people,
There were plenty of cars,
But no one was out.
Then I had to get food,
Lots of people,
I had on my running hat face thing,
That had part pulled down
So only my nose was covered.
A bunch of kids, like twentyish years old
Had gathered to hang out,
They took their meeting into the parking lot
To rev their engines and try to be normal,
If that’s even possible for twenty-year-old dudes

Weird, it’s weird being out,
Not seeing people,
Seeing people in masks,
Having people avoid everyone
To the point where when they are shopping
They look like the kid in the bumper cars
Who can’t make the car go straight.
They just spin their cart around and around
Panicked that they might get sick,
Probably not thinking about getting someone else sick,
Anything for those Golden Grahams big momma.

How about a mask?
The runners are distancing.
The bikers are distancing.
Can’t an overly loud,
Inappropriately clad, even by Walmart standards, mother
Make a choice that isn’t based on her loudly exclaiming
(Without a mask), “I gotta get my Grahams!!!”
Okay, you are going to get them, but
Could you think about being more respectful of the pandemic
Despite your need for high fructose corn syrup.

Eight people,
Three hours,
No complaints.

Twenty minutes at Walmart,
Just enough time to see people
As they probably always are.

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