The geese splash down and
cackle ‘coronavirus’
but they do not stay.
They power up and
leave the dark water for grey
skies, majestic, as
colors flash from the
throats of warblers and corvids
and other small birds.
It’s like a quick blush
of innocence from nowhere
and with no downside.
Come walk with me—-we’ll
not bump into each other
lest the virus spread.
People are walking
more on Narragansett where
they can see the ducks.
You can feel alone
outside the PTX Lounge
leaning against the
brick wall with the mer-
maid mural. The cocktail she
hands you is yourself.
Coronavirus
rules make us keep our distance.
We are all police.
Bobbing in the bay,
ducks feed at the breakwater.
Three schoolgirls sunbathe,
the soft warm hands of
the Spring sun fulfill the hour.
The gods feel nothing,
says Plotinus in
the books in their backpacks warm-
ing on cold granite.
In the silence of
the village I watch Little
Falls. The black water
bubbles and sparkles,
surprisingly voluble
in the quiet of
coronavirus.
A veritable Eden
said Verrazano.
This new virus: Wild-
life is not your salvation
but itself and wild.
The boat yard empty.
Just me out for a walk and
two enormous geese.
Coronavirus
also a silent presence.
Like two weightlifters
in orange trainers,
they didn’t scare but waddled
off, flight possible
at any time. I
took some pictures, conscious I’d
delete them later.
Coronavirus
is scary but boring too.
The days between shop-
ping days are relieved
by disturbing flashbacks of
the radiant smile
of the pale checkout
girl. Today they had almost
nothing on my list
but I got in her
line and she smiled back. It’s like
that song ‘we’ll survive.’
