I chugged another Corona
in my Dolores Park circle of safety.
A San Francisco park crew
painted a starry sky of circles
on that spread of green.
My friend Sophie said behavioral art
back when we conquered
Tecates down Valencia glory
and before a Mission Street mural.
Within my circle, I was safe.
I took a long swig
despite Uncle Jerry
blabbing on I’ll get Covid-19
from all these Coronas
I welcome into my body.
Empty bottle, I fell back into grass
with the California Golden Bear
roaring across my shirt’s cotton front.
A text popped up: Sophie is in the icu
on a ventilator. Can you talk?
I shoved a new six-pack
into my liver’s struggling arms.