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

Odd Walking Thoughts – Don’t keep

We walk into the shadow of death to pull one wounded child from its depths, to find another daft man standing in the corner. Leaves are shuffling outside my window. A man with a golden heart is gone. Another stands in a room looking. Don’t block me. I am here and at least I have my fingers. The man in the room standing, looking daft, asks for silence because silences never questions. Never says a damn word. The girl with the golden brow would have cared for a word. And the boy with the covers pulled tight would have cared for the same.
**
copyright 2017
-M. Taggart