They romp on hour glass beaches,
Tee-up North and down South;
Pack ****-straps in bleacher bags,
And gutters in ten pin alleys.

They're raging at the crosswalks,
Flail arms at intersections,
Like scarecrows on the Yellow Brick Road;
They foment insurrection.

The thick won't mitigate.
The thicker congregate.
The thickest dissipate.

I know death.
Incensed with all of it.
The weighty strain of darkness,
Eyes closed, stopped ears, stuffed nose.
I was petrified while the world stumbled,
My wordless mouth gapes like a maw
Needing stitches.
I lounge in a toga,
Motionless as alabaster.
I was born to die,
But not like this.

Today's worries,
Now three days old,
Will be addressed
Tomorrow.

She said she needed
Some me time;
She was suffocating,
Couldn't breathe.
I paid too much attention.
She was right,
Though  pre-conceived.

But now, she seems alone.

I've passed the homeless on the street,
Wondering if today they'll eat,
And I cry, Why me?

I know plenty who attend AA,
And many who didn't make today,
And I cry, Why me?

I know there's millions unemployed,
As dwindling aid keeps them buoyed,
And I cry, Why me?

They're lonely and they're isolated,
The throngs, apart and dissipated,
And I cry, Why me?

Many friends and family die,
Yet still I cry, Why me?

Why me, indeed, a plaintiff wail.
Why me? Why me?
Until I fail.

While cruising Corona on the net,
I saw pangolins not eaten yet.
Many, you see, believe its scales,
Are cure-alls to cure whatever ails.
And its meat festoons the rich Asian table.

Who ate the pangolin from head to toe.

China lauds its laws to say they save
The endangered pangolins,
At home, in Asia;
Yet in Wuhan, locked live in cages,
In wet markets like our Dark Ages,
The scaly pangolin is sold.

But Revenge,
We know,
Is a dish best served cold.

"Wash your hands before eating
Your bitter herbs, figs, and unleavened bread,
Cause it ain't gonna happen.
No Sir."
                                            Moses