Corona piques loudmouths who doubt if she's real. They debate whether she can be trusted to kill. Does she prefer old folks, or will any one do? Can vaccines disrupt her, or does she like them too? Does the color of your skin determine your fate? Is it true she likes poor folks; in the rich she abates? But Corona? Corona is quiet. She empties the streets and the crowded bars. She covers your mouth in schools and cars. She shoves tubes down your throat to help you breathe. she shovels the dirt when you succumb to disease. Corona don't care what your preacher thinks as she silently weaves through the towns and streets. I walk with my dog on a Saturday morn. I converse with the birds not quite overworn with the sounds of cars and giggling voices. Today they're silent. This weekend is joyless. After pretending for months she isn't there she's coming to visit, and they must prepare. Those seeking attention will stand up, defiant. But Corona? Corona is quiet.
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