poem- reality, really

We crossed state lines
to pick up our new grill

I sat in my truck,
in the parking lot at Lowe’s,
and watched as men and
women entered the adult playground

Most wore masks, some practiced
social distancing

I got the text from Megan
telling me to pull the truck up front

I pictured her at the register wearing
her black face mask
talking with a cashier who also wore
a face mask and who stood behind a plastic shield

I pulled the truck up front, put it in park,
and looked at my own ninja mask.

A couple walked passed my truck
the man nodded as I slipped on my mask

The grill is somewhat large, and slightly heavy-
“I don’t know if I can lift this, my back is a bit off.”

Just as Megan had said that, an older gentleman
entering Lowe’s heard and asked if we needed a hand.

He helped me lift the grill onto the tailgate
he was plenty helpful and plenty nice
He wore no mask

He stood plenty close
and gave me a fine look of a child

Reality is a good place, really

Crossing state lines, on a back road
leading into Maine,
stood a massive LED sign on wheels
“All those entering Maine must
quarantine for fourteen days.”

-M. Taggart

6 thoughts on “poem- reality, really

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