Blues in the Key of Covid

For three years now
I have avoided crowds,  
Socially distancing
Cautiously masking
 
I have learned the names  
Of Covid viral thugs  
Longed for the vaccine  
Which finally came like Jesus    
Apologizing for the delay.  
   
The 2d shot pierced  
My old withered arm  
And the only thing I felt was  
Relief, quiet joy, as if I had been stalked  
For a year by something darkly  
Smiling a gnarly grin.  
   
And then the graves opened  
And Delta erupted  
Like a trope from    
A cheap-ass horror flick,  
   
Followed by Omicron.  
Who would have thought  
The Greek alphabet  
Could have birthed  
A pantheon  
Of such gasping, rotting things?  
   
BB.1.5 was finally too much.  
Now I must hold you,
My gorgeous white-haired girl,
Kiss you  
Even as each kiss    
Is like a hoary game  
Of Covid roulette  
So that each kiss lingers  
As if the last  
   
As if the tickling of the throat,  
The flu-like symptoms should  
Scratch their dirt-encrusted nails  
Against the door  
   
And oh my dear, dear girl  
I no longer  
Really care.