The Summer of ‘98-A Short Story

I remember the summer of ‘98 like it was yesterday. The sun was a relentless tyrant, and the air was thick with the smell of cut grass and dusty sneakers. The neighborhood kids, a motley crew of preteens with scraped knees and boundless energy, spent every waking hour playing street soccer in front of old Mr. Atley’s house. He hated us, and we loved the thrill of annoying him. He was the grumpy Goliath, and we were the plucky Davids, a soccer ball our only sling. The best player on the street was Kevin. He was a year older than the rest of us, with a mop of sandy hair and a cocky grin. He was faster, more agile, and had a way of dribbling the ball that made it seem like an extension of his own foot. He knew it, too, and his constant showboating drove me crazy. I was a decent player, but Kevin always found a way to make me look like a clumsy oaf, stealing the ball from me with a quick flick of his ankle or nutmegging me with a cheeky grin. One day, our game intensified. It was just Kevi...
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Corona Virus

Corona, the name that rhymes with cheerful beer and a dreadful bug 
It came stealthily and rode roughshod, undeterred 
Socially distant we became as we fought to stay alive while the virus run wild amongst the naive 
For once in our lifetime together we fall divided we stand 

Remaining aloof and recluse the new norm, in a world where socialites reign 
Solitary confinement bestowed so graciously, as the world acquiesced to live 
When will it all end, summer they say or so they surmise? 
Sun will liberate but some have their doubts 
As more cross to the land of the dead each day

We look to science and vaccine for trust, drugs we know and some we don’t 
Damaging some are but what choice we have? As panacea eludes our zealous dredge 
As answers escape, hail Mary we seek 
Obstinate corona we battle so fervid 

Try as they might the afflicted to breathe, as they drown so fast in fluids 
Boomer or millennial it respects not one 
Most succumb fast and furious they fight 
So our days we count till an end draws near  

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