Calico, Silvermine, Leadville, ghost towns used to be a place
You visited with the kids, but now in Covid Times
It’s the place you go for a walk when your car is getting service
When the oil is being changed and you want to avoid the closed space
Of the waiting room and not be infected there so you walk for an hour
Up the hill and down into Branford, lovely town, New England Green
Some cars in the parking lot of the stout library building
Even a few hopeful sandwich boards on the sidewalk
Glistening in the beating afternoon sun, “We’re open”
They say, but you can’t fool me, I walk along
And then the phone buzzes: a driving belt (which I wish I had)
Also needs to be replaced, so I walk more through town
Another hour and another half alone under the hot sun
Which maybe explains it, even those two people I finally spot
Picnicking under the shade of a spruce on the just cut lawn
Of the library, and especially their relaxed, reclining and
Whatever they are eating and drinking looks far too good to be true
They too are a mirage, so too is that car that waits for me
To pass over the crosswalk, no you can’t fool me
I know precisely where I am, the place is so quiet
The tiny breeze is a murmur, and all the others are inside
Forming themselves up of mists and memories
As a child they used to scare me, those places and those
Who haunted them, but not now
No, not now that I am one of them.
A Quarter To Midnight
The baby is shrieking uncontrollably
And it’s a quarter to midnight
And the parents don’t now what to do
And neither do we
Except to imagine our getting our clothes on
Half dressed really and we get in the car
Yet who will drive? Who will hold
The baby, and the hospital?
Will anyone even be there these days?
To help us, to say, reassuringly, It’s not so bad
Not so terrible, baby, it will pass
Yes, it will pass, you only think
You are going to die because your hunger
Or your pain or your rage or all three
Whatever ii is that has seized you and made you
Red as a beet, quivering as a last leaf on the tree
Unreachable by any means
Beyond the comfort of anyone’s arms
This thing that has gripped you
And sent you someplace where
You can’t even hear your own mother’s cooing
Where you don’t even know your mother now
Or your father or any of us
This inconsolable place you have gone into
That is us too, that’s our terrible secret
These Covid Days, your shrieking is us
So calm down, baby, please calm down
Shhhhhh, baby, please calm yourself, shhhhshhh
It’s almost midnight and we don’t know what to do.
The Man Who Could See Viruses
What if I had magical powers
What if I could see them. Actually see them
The viruses I mean, see them without any equipment
What if I just wiped my glasses clean
And suddenly could see them, see them as
They float in the air and circle faces
Cartwheeling about like motes of dust in the sunlight
I mean actually see them, individual spiky fellas
As they whirl about hovering in the air and landing
On your collar and I could almost
Hear them speak in voices I imagine
Screechy like a high, hoarse cough saying
Shucks, darn, they call out to each other,
Just missed! I was aiming for her eyes
I was on target to zoom right into his nose
And then he moved suddenly to pick up his pen
To write down some dumb verses
And I missed him and now here I am
For God knows how long
Stuck on the arm of this chair
Just waiting for a ride up
Oh well, whaddaya gonna do?
No use complaining because soon
A drop of that coffee will spill
And he’ll wipe it and I’ll be scooped
Right up onto his ring finger
Or onto the side of the thumb – any digit will do
And then….All these voices I hear them too
All the mega-trillion individual little viruses
What if I could warn you, Duck!
Cover up! Go inside! Lock the door! Gargle!
What if I told you one had your name
And address and knew even your social security number
And no way this one was going to miss you
What if it were really coming your way, right now
This very second, what if? What then? What now?