Knowing Love in the Time of COVID-19

A month or so ago, I read an article that said “YOU are your safest sex partner”. My first thought was, Sure, especially if you’re hygienic about it. After a few chuckles (what can I say? I have the sexual humor of a hormonally overactive teenager) and further reading, that proved the article was not a joke, I began to think, I guess they might be on to something.

Then, my eyes glimpsed the headline, “Masturbation is all the rage in New York City through the coronavirus pandemic”, imagined the expressions the statement would put on some faces I know, and I began forwarding the link while laughing like a maniac. The poem bits that follow were inspired by my more serious reaction to the wonderful piece of pandemic street art accompanying the article.

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Love

knows barriers

can’t stop knowing

what true love feels

like.

true love knows

barriers can’t stop

us loving

our love knows

barriers can’t stop

knowing love

for Poets and Storytellers United (Weekly Scribblings #18: Art (and turmoil, it seems) Begets Art, birth words inspired by Pandemic Street Art from around the world)

It’s Not Paranoia If Mobile Morgues Are Parked Down the Street

I started using a face mask a lot earlier than most people I know. I bought masks for my Piano Man and the not-so-Little Princess sometime in late January, since we were going to travel to Washington state the following month. When I discussed the purchase with a friend or, perhaps, a relative *cough*, the individual in question told me, “The paranoia is strong with this one.” And we both laughed.

Yesterday, during a video call with the same person, I heard their child say, “You can go for a walk, if you stay enough away from people. Stop being so paranoid.”

The friend or relative *cough, cough, cough* (goodness, I must get something for this cough) exploded. “Paranoid? Look at the numbers! People are dropping like flies. There’re dead people in ice cream trucks! I saw a video of a delivery guy spitting on a package. How do you know they haven’t spat on our door? You’re too…”

I accidentally on purpose ended the call while the person was still shouting about the state of things. And when we talked again, a little while ago, and the person went on and on and on… about their child’s lack of sense, I didn’t even remind them about those early days, when wearing a face mask was still a bit of a joke. See? I can be nice. Well, almost nice (since I’m totally sending them a link to this post).

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the wee notes…

- I haven’t seen any ice cream trucks being used as mobile morgues in New York or any other place.

- for Poets and Storytellers United (Weekly Scribblings #15: Poets and Storytellers Ink COVID-19 Quarantine Histories)

- stay safe.