Distress Call

Child, why are you crumpled 

here on the couch, when you could be 

dancin’ in the streets?  

Momma, that ain’t dancing, 

it’s likely choking and holding, 

then protests and gassing 

of those who do, and besides, 

there’s a plague upon us; 

we’re ‘sposed to shelter, displaced.  

I know; it’s awful, and I’m sorry 

for the state of the world  

we’re handing  you, but it’s my understanding 

that life goes on, so get your rump 

up if not out the door; find some way 

to make things better; maybe 

cat videos or helping the poor.  

(Sigh.) I guess you’re right. While the couch 

is comfy, it’s still a crutch, propping up 

my nothing much. I’ll go make myself 

an installation; it’ll be a sensation, 

and maybe I’ll escape being a bore.