Mailbag: Rhymes in the age of social distancing

Mailbag: Rhymes in the age of social distancing


Two days of this fever

But down to 99

A little more congested

All tolled I’m feeling fine

But I hear some gnawing

Way back there in my mind

If I spit my sputum in a dish

Just what would Petri find?

Irrational this Corona

As people leave Pomona

Skip racing in Daytona

And whales stop eating Jonah

We are hoarding tissue

Grown fussy with our fear

For glut replaces shortage

If you count Corona beer

Oh my God, fear is odd

As we read the morning Suns

First chagrin from Charmin sin

And now we’re buying guns!

The lesson clear is clearly here

To extend our mere existence

To stop pandemic sores and even wars

We just must keep our distance!

Wayne Spletstoser




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