We wipe our cans of soup and store our shoes
Beyond the windows, just inside the gate.
We're lost in thought, or what is thought's excuse
In keeping sick at bay, protecting fate.
Way back, before the doors of stores were closed,
We shook the hands and danced without a thought.
We wandered aimless and unstressed, supposed
The shelves held all we'd ever want. We bought
Our food and fun. We thought just of today.
No fretting over soap and bread, like now,
When turns of mind or hand might matter, play
Some role in our demise, our final bow.
We traded freedoms, some just off this street
To save our lives, and those we've yet to meet.