no argument with possibility (poets in pyjamas)
I went out to get the mail this afternoon --
My neighbor was getting into his car.
I hadn’t spoken to him in a month.
“How are you holding up?” he asked.
I knew what he meant. I said,
“It’s hardly affected me, I’m a hermit,
But shops and bars have closed
And I fear for the economy.”
“Best thing that ever happened
To our economy,” he reacted.
“I’m a Socialist, a real one.”
He’s not into buying and spending
And the claptrap of capitalism,
And he shrugged. “Kids are pretty safe,”
I answered. “If they get the virus
It’s usually only like a cold.”
“I know,” he nodded.
“And I’m in my 60s,
But I’m not worried.
I’m not that old.”
I smiled at him, and being cheerful
Said, “More people die from flu
Than from this.” I waved goodbye
And he left in his car.
But after entering my apartment
And opening my mail
That the postman handled,
I remembered not to touch my face,
And washed my hands
And sang “Happy Birthday”
Twice while doing it -- I have
No argument with possibility.