‘The clouds don’t care,’/ he said. Blowing a puff / of cigar smoke at me/ from across the porch. / I sent a pretty good / smoke ring back his way./ We were not / six feet apart, so could/ be killing each other, should / the virus hitch a ride upon our exhalations ...
I am doing my bit to man the barricades by helping to Illustrate the op-ed limericks by a sister-in-arms in West Virginia. Baby Trump balloons feature prominently.