Must Be the Weather

A difficult season,
this one we’re living in.
Confusing, some say
as if an assertive attitude
will clear up any doubt you,
or they, had.

The government or something like it,
has even cancelled the poetry reading
in town. Makes sense I guess, though
I will confess, I had a vision
that somebody (Clooney or Bocelli,
I couldn’t tell…
the lighting was bad)

Stood in a standing room only crowd,
proud to have a spot at all
for my curtain call.  And my
how I did read. No over-emoting,
elegantly understated, every syllable
enunciated .. Oh gee,
it was swell.

And when I was done,
I saw him waiting in line
like a hungry waif, patiently
standing until  at last it was his turn
when timidly he asked me
to sign his mask.  I awoke then.
I wonder what I would have done.

It is a difficult season.

4 thoughts on “Must Be the Weather

  1. The setting, the vision/dream (Clooney and Boccelli could be confused …), the timeliness and tone of wry weariness … I like all this, this poem. Thank you for sharing it.

  2. BoardFlak

    An interesting predicament. Of course, mass gatherings of all sort have been canceled or outright banned. Many have been replaced by virtual meetings online, but no one can ask for an autograph that way.

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