Stay alert. Wash your hands!
Wash the sun / alert the park / stay out
I choose to stay in.
My home (sick) body stretched across the sofa;
the playlist getting longer from yesterday’s Music League.
Topic set to nostalgic 90s —
childhood melodies spilling through the mp3.
Pop powered by burnt CDs for backyard musings.
Baby barking to the beat,
running round the red dirt,
“and all that glitters is gold…”
Fragments of strangers at the park across my house
sit shoulder to shoulder on benches -
“Are you from the same household?”
as the dog chases the squirrel -
Mister Softee parks on the corner.
Two familiar strangers stand-off on the pavement:
“cross the street!”
It’s 38 degrees in Athens today.
Bodies spilling on the sand, my friend messages me.
Greek forecasts shouting:
suffocating air brought on by heat!
“40℃ & African dust smog the city!”
Americans, Germans, Brits
are crammed on the beaches in Rafina.
Sand isn’t listed as a surface where
the virus remains active.
I search the Web.