DAY 68: Hey kid, why are you crying?
Why why do you cry?
60,000 dead and rising.
That's a big number, but they
were mostly old and weak, weren't
they? Did you know any of them?
I knew them all, all 250,000 --
nationality don't count --
I knew them, so I cry, but I
got a question for you, mister.
Shoot, girly.
Why are you not crying? What
are you waiting for? A pandemic's
not big enough, bad enough, sad
enough? How can you talk about
numbers, about reopening -- the show
must go on, is that it? You know
you need to stop, sit in silence, remember
cry for the dead and sick in pain
cry for each one, observe
a moment of silence for
each sweet worthy person,
as you say, per head (head count),
equals how long, smart guy?
by the way, where is your heart?
where are the flags at half-mast?
where is the black crepe, the black armbands?
where is the black crepe, the black armbands?
where are our leaders on their knees?
when does the whole human race
start to grieve, mourn, tear our
clothes and not let go? --
refuse to let go of even
one of us, carried away in
the flash flood,
the flash flood of tears.
