Jab

We sit
half-face sheathed
one point five meters
apart; mandated
Observed
She wears mulberry scrubs
and monitors the waitlist
the timer
her fifteen minute charges
and there’s a quiet relief in the room
Anti-funereal
We shoulder pinholes
as badges of pride and huddle
in anticipation of flu-like symptoms
Bathed in knowledge
that our future is only ‘flu-like’
We are lucky