Badlands

Thirty-two Point Five

Too cold to be alive,

But not too cold to work.

Apparently I'm thirty-two point five!

I blame the ten minute walk,

The winter wind whipping against my brow

Significantly lowers my surface temperature,

But I'm permitted to work anyhow,

I can't possibly be a danger

To my colleagues – I'm far too cold

To be carrying corona virus.

It's safe for me to work, I'm told,

But it doesn't feel safe to us.

These daily temperature checks

Are our only form of virus screening.

The fact I'm not dead from hypothermia

Shows the results have no meaning.

We don't pay much attention to it anymore,

Temperature checks are more like a game.

We laugh about it and work as before,

And we'll continue carrying on just the same.