The Way It Is Now

Today I was chased by a Corgi named Goldie who I’m madly in love with. She’s a little more than a puppy with fur that feels like silk, nuzzling you, like a low to the ground lover.

Her owner, however, in her 20s, doesn’t say hello nor comes within 30 feet of me.

She calls the dog incessantly, who having more sense, ignores her.

Wonder of Goldie gets sprayed with disinfectant once they get home.

I’m the new enemy, with or without a mask, even miles away.

I went to Kinkos to laminate some pictures and was firmly told, I can no longer do it myself. They will, and furthermore, they’re very busy, and I’ll just have to wait.

Then, at Starbucks, was halted at the door by a kid with a thermometer making sure I wasn’t totin’ a fever. I thought it only fair if I could take hers.

Madewell, a store I like because they’ll monogram all the leather they sell, no longer provides the service.

“But it’s why I shop here,” I tell the manager. “Why would you stop?”

She gives me her best Valley Girl head shake before saying with snarky sass, “Why do you think?”

“Cause you’re slipping?”

I knew the answer, but was angry at the stupidity of it all. Covid 19 somehow will affect one’s initials…

How so?

What am I missing, besides what’s left of my mind?

Unmasked groups yes, an SB here and there, no.

I let it go, but my Connecticut was rightfully wronged, already on life support after learning that Brooks Brothers had closed their Madison Avenue Flagship store.

It was where Hemingway and Teddy shopped.

It’s where my mother took me to get my first navy blazer, practically a rite of passage. 

And as far as the government goes, it’s as though everyone is performing in a one-man show.

I’m waiting for Nancy to open at the Shubert, and McConnell, the Public, known for its groundbreaking productions since, after publicly announcing, he’ll make sure Mr. Biden, who hadn’t even officially won yet, won’t get his cabinet passed, well…I think he’ll be a sell-out since, we’ve never seen nor heard anything quite like Mitch before.

Toss in our sitting President, playing golf while we all quietly die, and not only Democrats by the way, since the plague belongs to no party.

I’d now like everyone, you too Mr. President, to take out a dollar bill and read…”E PLURIBUS UNUM,” that graces the front.

It’s Latin for…one of many.

Does anyone still need a translator?

Don? Mitch? Nancy? 

SB