Who knew
a haircut would be
the highlight of my week,
that I would one day
wait inside my car,
texted from afar,
one person at a time.
That one of life’s simple pleasures
would become
so complicated by covid’s measures
that the monthly witness
to the changing landscape
of my life,
would be gloved and gowned to greet me,
smiling eyes behind a mask,
zapp me with thermometer,
then wash, advise, and sanitize.
That conversation
would be strained through cloth,
like coffee dripping drop by drop,
plop, plop, plop,
both trying to recapture
the casualness of other times,
with words that reach like
outstretched arms,
trying for connection.
Who knew
the woman who wore
the mask,
wasn’t there to rob the bank
or steal the gems or yank
my wallet from my pants.
That I would be
comforted by the mask itself,
something that kept me safe and free
and safeguarded my security.
That it would be worn
by a superhero
taking on covid’s crimes,
subduing straggling strands
while walking in a field of mines,
as she worked inside the six foot lines.
Please follow and like us:
