Poem

I’m outside smoking a cigar and reading Charles Bukowski. I’m drinking a beer but I would much rather have a whiskey. There are chipmunks running on the rocks in the backyard and my kid just striped down and is completely naked. He’s playing in a small pool on the deck. A man handling an excavator was here all day working on our land; we didn’t worry about social distancing. He had his place, we had ours. This pandemic is here and there and everywhere. Let’s play, and be, as long as we can and either we’re fine, or we’re not anymore and the wind couldn’t care less.

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