Tuesday, April 7, 2020

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!

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