The black grackle with the purple-green
iridescent sheen ambles by closer to me,
seated on a park bench facing Lady Bird Lake.
She knows nothing of social distancing.
A gray-black pill bug slowly traverses
the ground, aiming straight toward me
as I walk past the now-closed library.
He knows nothing of social distancing.
The yellow-brown striped bee,
god forbid, lands on my thumb
as I walk toward the side
of the Butterfly Bridge
that isn’t closed .
She knows nothing of social distancing.
A homeless man smiles when I ask
him if he’d like a breakfast taco and a coffee
when I stop, my first time outside, to support
a local Austin restaurant still open. He
walks closer, his dirty striped blanket draped
over his shoulders. I put my hand up to signal:
“stop, don’t come any closer.”
We are both still learning about social distancing.
