Rubber Bullets and COVID-19

You believe you live in two worlds, but that is only your vanity. There is but one single world for us. We are men, and must follow the world of men contentedly.
          —Carlos Castaneda, The Teachings of Don Juan

The helicopters are distant now, but always on the breeze as it rustles through the trees and in through my open window. Early evening birdsong chirps out from every direction as the sun considers setting on an accomplished spring day. Down the street, my neighbors are banging on pots and pans. That means it's seven o'clock. Fewer people participate in this evening ritual of quarantine clanging as the weather grows kinder. Most have given up on the quarantine itself and now walk the neighborhood chatting with one another behind corona masks. I'd be on a walk myself — injured knee and all — but for the curfew. My section of the city is completely locked down until six tomorrow morning. In response, the so-called protests have shifted to West Philly tonight. I don't believe anyone who saw what went down last night can honestly claim they're there for anything but a riot and some looting, but for some reason we're obliged to be genteel and pretend the whole matter is quite civilized. The national guard is supposed to arrive tonight.

Here come the helicopters again. Fun times.