Blue Tarps   The present unpleasantness, we’ve agreed, is due to knuckleheads and variants, widespread confusion over want and need. The variants might yield to science — answers might be had. But knuckleheads? What can you do? Someone tell us — what can you do? We’re all refugees, all of us. No-man’s-land is all we know. Blue tarps. Latrines. And beauty is so fleeting when we’re so distracted by the fierce onrush of everything. It’s time to tell the commandant — we’ve packed our bags, served our time, paid our dues. Let’s sing a new freedom, let’s leave the camp, make some noise, make like it was before. Let’s go home.     © Michael Fleming Brattleboro, Vermont April 2021