At a time when we’re afraid, when we’re petrified...COVID-19 Lockdown Poem #1

In aisle 5 (or was it 6?), this lithe chick—sneakers, leggings, thighs, thick
bouncing braids—busts a funky hip-hop move while bending
low for BBQ-flavour Pringles. Ahh! I coo,
there they are: one more item off the children’s wishful list. Dutifully
I fall in step and for a moment, we duet, risk a boogie 
less than three feet apart between the rows and shelves and stacks
of sweets and treats and snacks. This might be the last chance
before we all depart, I reason, before grabbing classic Pringles.
You stay good! You too! Be safe! we urge each other;
her Brit-black accent chimes off mine.
While over the store’s loudspeakers, Gloria vows she, too, will survive.

We resume the sanitized shop, part and go our distanced ways
smiling, I double back for Cadbury’s darkest
but do not see her dancing braids again.

March 30, 2020