Back when Covid was an immediate threat

(as opposed to now, where it lumbers in the background

like a serial killer in part seven of a franchise

still deadly, but a bit blah)

We received the Ping of Panic

My young daughter exposed in school

Our first real possibility of plague

 

I took her to the drive-through

This Happy Meal a disappointment

The toy is a test tube

The fries go up your nose

She sits contained in her car seat

Her father's eyes wide and afraid

I'm driven to comfort her

So I climb in the back

And shut the door against the January rain

 

She eyes my approach with concern

Then tears

Then screams

Not enough crawl space in her nasal cavity

I do my best and make the deposit

Swab into tube into bag into bag

Her tears continue

Mine are close

"Let's get out of here

and watch some telly"

 

I go to open the door

But nothing happens

I'm locked in

Confined and confused

That's when I remember the child-locks

Shit