Corona Virus!

It came from a bat.

And in a New York minute

You were locked up like that.

You were told to stay home 

And to soap up your hands.

Stay six feet away

And cancel all those plans.

They closed the schools. So our kids we home teach.

While President Trump touts the drinking of bleach.

 

You look up and down streets.  Look ‘em over with shock.

In Times Square you marvel, “This just can’t be the block.”

Gone is the bustle, the glowing lights of marquees.

No Broadway, no tourists, no crowds in Sardi’s.

 

It’s a global pandemic. 

Called Covid Nineteen.

Stats are quite scary. 

We have no vaccine.

 And all in one day. Your whole world went away

No more reservations.

Eateries still shut.

No pubs, bars or clubs

Nightlife’s in a rut.

 

Many milestones cancelled:

Graduations, the prom.

That 80th birthday party

You planned for your Mom.

 OH! THE PLACES YOU WON’T GO!

 Still self-quarantining

To help flatten that curve.

Watch celebs from their homes

Their bookshelves you observe.

 

And while homebound, you’ve adopted new routines.

Like always wearing sweatpants, never those jeans.

Family together, twenty-four-seven.

Mostly it’s hell, but (sshh!) sometimes it’s heaven.

You were ready for them to be grown. But not to be flown.

 Family together

All under one roof.

They won’t clean.

They don’t flush.

They don’t tell the truth.

 “We are six feet apart!”

“We wore masks the whole time!”

“But we did wash our hands!”

To the parents they would whine.

 

And though children will whine

You’ve got wine of your own.

Chilling in your closet

The only child-free zone.

 

You left for the Hamptons

For fresh air and more room.

But you still don’t see anyone

Unless appearing on Zoom.

 

You spend time on Facebook

Cringe at inane politics.

You’d log off for a good program,

But you finished Netflix.

 

Wine makes a difference, but not really enough.

Your mood needs a boosting, these days have been rough.

Why not join in the whooping from roofs and from sills?

A chorus of love for front liners; Cheers, shouts, thrills!

New York’s “thank you kindly” for tending to our ills.

 

Salons are still shut. DIY’s the new norm.

Though they might open soon, Mayor D did inform.

‘Til then, wear masks and gloves, reports beseech.

Delay that haircut. Delay that hair bleach.

Botox and fillers, remain out of reach.

 

Appearances, schmearances.

Aren’t you better than that?

You used to be above it, ‘til you got so fat.

You said you’d do yoga, lift weights, take a class.

But save for vacuuming, you just sit on your ass.

 

It could be depression.

A deepest, dark storm of murk.

But have perspective. It could be much worse.

Just ask a doctor. Just ask a nurse.

Or workers, without masks to disburse.

Or the unemployed, their lives in reverse.

The city, if I may be terse,

Has depression… or worse.

 When? When is it over?

 You miss your girls lunches

Even the gossip and snark.

It’s been 10,000 years

Since you’ve been to The Mark.

 Oh, the places you WON’T go.

NY still on closure.  

We can’t open just yet and risk exposure.

And yes, the economy needs to get going

But it can’t if the virus shows no signs of slowing.

So be patient, be smart, help who you can.

Public health over public wealth must be the plan.

 You may not feel me. So let’s agree to disagree.

 Looking for good news? There is some to hear.

For Planet Earth, 2020’s a good year.

Good for our animals, our air and our seas.

“A trend to keep going,” said Mother Nature, “Please.”

 

Don’t think this screed too preachy

Or ignorant of the grief.

Losses unimaginable.

This virus has been a cruel thief.

Yet, still we must decide

Are we up or are we down?

Glass half-empty or half-full?

Sunrise or sundown?

Tilt toward the positive, a mood no longer bereft.

You’ll be greater! Grateful! Even more than when you left!

 So…

Be your name Fauci, Cuomo or Gupta

Or Mordecai Ali Van Allen O’Dupta,

You’ve helped us get by.

We can’t thank you enough!

New Yorkers, I salute YOU!

As the Gov says, WE’RE TOUGH!

 

And it doesn’t rhyme but for G-d sake’s vote in the election and let’s end this nightmare, once and for all.