The elderly still holding hands and then
remembering, letting go at the light,
a black-masked stranger on wheels
mumbling a muffled “I love you,”
because it’s hot
and I took off my sweater,
a man with dead apples
choking the spokes of his bicycle
circles the park and, in sing-song, tells us
what to do tomorrow—
Abundance of absence drags the street;
the question of whether to kiss just got bigger.
It’s the end of the world — do you know
where your heart is?
Do you have everything
you need to stay away?
We are already out of tests.
What have you touched?