bodega at night

As Long As You Make It to Tomorrow, You’re Doing Something Right

The bodega
across the
street has
not yet
closed up

I consider
ordering, decide
it’s kind but 
ultimately unwise

This pandemic is
an introvert’s secret fantasy
I don’t have to talk to anyone
but myself and G-d

This might be
my deepest problem
I don’t know 
where to begin

8:30, he rolls
grate to pavement
I’m doing laundry,
the inevitable consumption
of being alive

We both say goodnight
to the night
and without moving
run headlong
into tomorrow

____________
Photo by Jim Ronan