Poemdog

Dogs 2020

The New Butts
(7/16/2020)


I seem
to see them
everywhere

as I walk
the paths

the streets

the sidewalks

discarded
cloth

pitched
paper
face masks

as prevalent
as cigarette
remains

except
these disposed
elements
are much more
susceptible
to the prevailing
winds

they appear
to run
in packs

manifestations
of our infected
race

mimicking
the restlessness
of their
former wearers

those
who cannot
accept
a little isolation

who cannot
suffer
a tiny bit
of cabin fever

running
wild
instead

damning
the consequences

damning
others
of their kind

perpetuating
a viral
second hand
smoke

something
blows
against the back
of my ankle

I don’t
look
down

facing
instead
the wind
of fate

holding
my breath