Every few steps a discarded face mask
Reminds us of our current hardship,
A struggle filled with uncertainty and fear.
Shards of brown glass are strewn
Across the tar,
Symbolic of shattered dreams.
Every few steps black, scotch, floral face masks,
A reminder of the fatigue of a people
No longer willing to comply.
Among several cigarette buds
And an empty condom wrapper,
A lonely sucker stick.
Every few steps…
Someone without a mask coughs,
A cyclist spits.
Every few steps…
I Cough.
I splutter.
A green empty beer bottle
Stands on the pavement,
Cold and alone.
The numbers rise,
Vaccination is slow, disorganized.
It’s a third wave… or is it a fourth?
The President will address the nation, again.
Speculation is rife; we bite our nails.
There’s a strange disconnect.
Every few steps I stop,
Take off my face mask for fresh air,
My breathing now laboured.
I guess I need not concern myself
With vaccines, face masks, or sanitizer.
I drop dead.