It took almost no time at all to monetize the plague.
Even the mascot on a fireworks flyer
is wearing a mask. Ads for masks with
American flags, Black Lives Matter,
Blue Lives Matter, bare breasts, masks with Batman
villains and political parties, middle fingers
and Hello Kitty. Curbside fat-dripping sandwiches
and curbside towers of books and curbside
personal lubricants. Free hot dog delivery.
These times, they are so very uncertain,
so phlegm-filled, so bloody, but rest assured
that your brand-new Buick will be waiting for you,
your pizza will be thirty minutes or less, your
stimulus will be mostly on time just in time to pay
your mortgage and just the exact amount needed
as well who’d have guessed? Meanwhile,
cash stuffed down old white men’s pants, layoffs
led to profits who’d have guessed? Masks made
to look like you’re kissing Ben Franklin’s asshole,
breathe deep little ones, breathe deep
that warm governmental embrace, breathe deep
that musk from spooning Wall Street, breathe deep
that sweet pale freedom and never mind
the air raid sirens and that tickle in your throat.