In these end times we are all alone together sitting in our
apartments skyping and zooming and texting each other
messages

Toasting each other from our living room couches across
the street or tweeting about toilet paper and sanatizer or
meat or the accidental shaking of a hand

There is no more shaking of hands. No more in person
interviews. No spectators at the ball games or patrons
in the dining rooms or mourners at the funerals
or colleagues having lunch together in a park or talking
over coffee in the coffee bars.

A silence that is never ending and a distance that cannot be
crossed hangs over the empty office buildings and the long
streets empty of traffic where the traffic lights go from
green to yellow to red to green in their endless, automated
sequences