When the virus struck he resolved like many to stay inside
He wouldn’t go out, even for a ride
Yet to combat the fear, anxiety, and ennui
He ended up studying not Spanish nor tai chi
Oddly, for an active fellow he chose nothing robust
Instead he decided to study the Holocaust.
He paid scant attention to the rest of the news
What’s the point, he said, We’re all Jews
Which sounded good but wasn’t quite true.
That history had him so obsessed
He couldn’t let it go, or give it a rest
With endless books and graphic late night films
He knew something was gnawing at him
It was a mix of flight, pride, fury, and shame
Although he could give it no name
He called a friend and said, Listen, brother
I don’t know what’s going on but I know I’m in trouble
What’s the thing I’m trying to avoid?
How would I know, said the friend, I’m no Freud
But why not try turning on the TV
See what they did to George Floyd.
So he took his friend’s advice and viewed the tape
Of the cop’s knees on the nape
And the neck and back of the man until he expired
And he knew he could watch this too
A thousand thousand more times and never tire
No, he said, as he turned off the news
I need to do something physical, I need to move
Whatever’s inside, I need to get it out
I need to exorcize.
So he retrieved the old racer out of the garage
And fixed it so he could balance without holding the bars
And he fashioned a mask of many colors
So he looks like every sister and every brother
You may have seen him riding near, or riding far
He takes that racer from place to place
Hands up, he declares, as he cruises by, I’m everyone
Don’t shoot, I’m the human race.
And we are all terribly grateful when they don't shoot.
Mirabile dictu.