Wild
Thoughts
Wind kicked
a can through the gas station parking lot
into my
path, onto my foot, and I thought it might
have coronavirus
on its flattened aluminum and
that is how
my days spiral, into flaccid thoughts
of pandemics
and wind carrying coughs and
sneezes into
the cruxes of my nasal passages.
Where will
we go from here except further
down the
abyss of fear? That a soda can
turns into a vector to destroy nations?
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment