CALCULATIONS
We have the calculator out
Trying to figure out
If we can afford to call out
New cases at work.
Three people tested positive,
Though they’ve only told us about one
Multiply the time we spend
By the value they give it
Then render unto Caesar
Next we subtract (rent)
Subtract (utilities)
Subtract (groceries)
There’s always a forgotten need
Or a hidden cost
We can never account for all of it
The numbers balance in our favor today
But even on the days they don’t
I think we’ll still make that call
Because the value they give our time
Is meaningless
If our time comes prematurely to its end
HAND WASHING
We put our belongings in employee lockers
(touched by countless other hands)
then we clock in on a time clock keypad
(touched by countless other fingers)
We gather a device and walkie talkie
(neither of which was probably cleaned),
swipe at them with Clorox wipes,
and take up a communal pen to sign them out.
After this, we wash our hands.
We go out and do our jobs. Touching so many boxes.
Products on shelves. The handles of ladders.
Carts and vehicles that may or may not have been sanitized.
At some point my morning coffee hits me and it’s time for bathroom trip number one.
I wash my hands before going
because of everywhere I’ve been, everything I’ve touched.
I wash my hands after going
because of my own germs.
More work. More boxes. More merchandise.
It’s time for break. We really should wash our hands before heading to the lockers,
but we’ve gotten lazy. We grab our lunch bags from the lockers then head to the sink.
We wash our hands.
We snack on our break.
Because our hands have been so close to our mouths,
when break is over
we wash our hands again.
We’re touching everything you’re buying.
Unpacking, unboxing, shelving.
Hours more pass and it’s time for lunch.
Repeat.
Wash our hands
Eat
Wash our hands again.
There may be another bathroom break.
Wash
Pee
Wash
A second fifteen minute break
Wash
Eat
Wash
Then the end of the day
Clock out
Wash
Gather your stuff from the lockers
which could still be germy, so
Wash them yet again.
So far we’re at thirteen hand washes a day
times 5 days a week (or 6 during the holidays)
every week of the year
Our hands sting. They bleed. They look like gnarled tree bark.
There’s not enough lotion in the entire world
to quench the thirst of our water-scarred skin.
I’m not a doctor. Not a medical provider.
I realize this could be so much worse.
And I’d rather bear this harsh and stinging pain
than leave here in a hearse.
THANKSGIVING
Your friend has cancer
and she’s been so lonely
It’s the sort of thing where
she found solace in the idea
that maybe her friends would
visit her when things got bad
And now things have gotten bad
for the whole damn world
and out of love for her
you stay away
What can you say to the loneliness
that feels abandoned and betrayed?
What can you say?
And she celebrated Thanksgiving
with her family, her husband, her parents,
and her sister who has been living with
whatever friends will take her in
during a period of joblessness
It was something of a terrible risk
And it’s a choice we all have to make
though perhaps not to this extreme
Any closeness right now could be a weapon
but factor in to your equation
the idea that, yes, this holiday together could kill me
but either way this Thanksgiving may also be my last
And what can you say to that?
There’s nothing to say
WHAT WE TEACH
My friend is an ESL teacher in Spain
There’s an outbreak at her school
Five students and two teachers sick
But the city mayor is a fool
They’re not allowed to cancel class
She’s got symptoms, but can’t call out
It’s the last week before Christmas break
Just—make it through somehow!
Tests aren’t available ’til January
Which holds its own moral conundrums
To line up for hours with others getting tested
Means she fears to both infect them or catch from them
The children she teaches are rather young
They need help with the scissors and glue
They don’t understand social distancing
She doesn’t know what to do
That same dilemma as before
I’ll get them sick, they’ll get me sick
The mayor wants the parents to go to work
So the schools have to babysit
What is this teaching the children, I wonder?
A moral system devoid of empathy?
That “compassion” comes before “money,”
but only in the dictionary
NO MATTER WHAT I DO
No matter what I do
I’m putting someone at risk
I can go to the store
but the clerk there
has no choice but to come in
I can order delivery
but the delivery person
has to pick it up for me
I could never leave my house
but somewhere a person
is being paid to gather items from my shopping list
a driver
is being paid to transport the boxes that contain them
a postal worker
is being paid to bring them to my door.
Me staying in requires
others to be out in the world
I can’t control others’ choices
I can only control my own
which is why my calculations
keep letting me down
There’s no number I put in
or scenario I run
where the end result is
zero damage done
