Our world spins, drunk on fear. My friend, Bill, says, “Stop! don’t come near.” As we call from the walk, screaming to talk, I realize he is scared shitless. Good job, toilet paper is now a commodity.
Medical treatment does its part. Too bad the human condition’s silliness is beyond healing.
Our human race, friendships too, have survived cataclysmic events, and with science and faith, we will this too.
Bill flings a paper plane. Its message, ‘Come join me for a pint of Corona when they lick this virus, and the world regains stasis.”
I holler, “Your house or mine?”
Medical treatment does its part. Too bad the human condition’s silliness is beyond healing.
Our human race, friendships too, have survived cataclysmic events, and with science and faith, we will this too.
Bill flings a paper plane. Its message, ‘Come join me for a pint of Corona when they lick this virus, and the world regains stasis.”
I holler, “Your house or mine?”
