A HERO FOR OUR TIME
Beyond all dreams of avarice, a wealthy man am I.
Though gold I lack, today’s real wealth I’ve piled up very high:
My closets bulge with tissues boxed, my cupboards are replete
With quarts of sanitizer and a million things to eat;
Three gallons of fresh milk I have, and loaves of bread well-frozen;
I’ve canned sardines and yogurt, too--and face-masks by the dozen.
With superhuman cleanliness I easily can cope:
Look here! Behold! This cupboard holds three hundred bars of soap.
My nether regions spotless are at morning, night, and noon:
My rolls of toilet paper, if unrolled, would reach the moon.
Incessantly I wash my hands. I shun my fellow men.
I stay inside. I pace the floor. I’m skulking in my den.
I’m masked and goggled all the time. I have a hazmat suit.
I don’t emerge in light or dark. I hoard and count my loot.
I order groceries online. I barricade my room.
I’ll thus avoid, I’m confident, the now-impending doom.
Let others fall! I know that I will surely win this fight
For I’ve become, by ceaseless toil, the perfect troglodyte!