This virus is a godsend.
The planet is bouncing back
with fewer cars on the road, fewer flights, Science is happy
The world’s oceans are cleaner, the atmosphere is cleaner
the air in my chest is cleaner.
I should be thankful,
hopeful
or perhaps pull my head out of my ass.
Meanwhile, the orange tower in Walmart ignores my registration.
I am patient for what seems an eternity.
Pacing, circling, talking to the man in line behind me.
Deciding to take a look for my item on the shelf,
it is distressing. The shelves have been emptied.
I return to wait at the tower.
The man behind me still there.
I’ve pulled out my phone, opened the Walmart App to cancel my order. It doesn’t work. I try again.
We both wait for a masked man or woman to appear
anyone really to acknowledge us
We receive shrugs, stares, and moods.
I go to Customer Service.
She points to a woman on the floor wearing a yellow smock.
We are informed, someone is coming, they are inundated.
I am perplexed because they emailed us
announced our order was ready.
They’ve charged our credit cards.
But, we still don’t have our items.
So we wait.
And wait.
And wait
until finallya masked woman comes out from the black hole that is the back room,
where everyone is clearly overwhelmed and clueless
and helps the man behind me.
I wait.
The man points to me.
Dare I ask?
The masked woman assures me that I’ve canceled my order.
I race outside.
My mother has been waiting in a hot car.
She informs me that it’s been an hour.
I reply 30 minutes.
Her door is ajar.
She is fuming.
We drive to Sam’s Club. It is closed.
I buy gasoline.
Drive towards home.
Stop for essentials at Publix.
Now I wait for my refund,
place my order with Amazon
recount my uncertain blessings.
Corney Press 