Coronavirus

The day the virus came –
Damn its double name –

Is the day the world closed down
With a terra firmer frown.

It’s sneaky Sino-start,
In some weird menu mart,

Made a fast getaway,
Anxious to make hay

In other earthly venues
Via air and H2O avenues.

First, it hit Italia,
Then Washington State, et alia.

Great Britain stayed aloof,
Until the blueblood proof

Turned out to be threadbare,
A la My Lady Fair.

The Big Apple caught the blues –
Still struggles with bad news.

Wherever Old Glory waves,
They’re in their man-made caves.

They sneak out just to shop,
The more TP to cop;

Then hurry back to catch
The daily D.C-TV match.

There, experts do mental dithering,
Maintaining faux distancing,

As the Orange Man cometh with, “Me,
Myself, and screw thee” --

While medics cry out in vane
For PPE for the pain

Of answering the call
In some unprotected hall.

Price-gouging is the name
Of a dangerous PPE game.

D.C., instead of leading,
Resorts to blame-game bleeding.

For speaking truth to power,
Good guy Fauci makes ‘em glower.

The MAGA hats come down so hard,
That now he needs a bodyguard.

Kudos to the Congress, all
For getting on the ball,

And dishing out the moolah,
Without a lot of hoopla.

There’s another bright story:
Those guys and gals in their glory –

The ones who are out around town,
Moving things and people around.

They join the medics,
Catch all the headaches,

As we in our lairs,
Singly, in pairs,

And some larger groups,
Send them, in whoops

Of humble appreciation
For all they are doing for our besieged nation.

Curtis W. Long

Curtis W. Long

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