Day 24: Who Ordered the Rubicon?

I am caught in a little blue house near the heart of this little locked-down flyover town tonight, gripped feverishly in the back-current alleyways of a solitary quarantined life barely lived.  The night hits hard on the tail-end vibrations of another sickly day.  A day where the counted bodies rose higher than the spring sunshine pushing back down in a fever-birth reawakening of a springing season spent socially-distanced in the green City of Wayne. My seclusions here had a healthy head-start, beginning back in the middle of March when the order came for the bars and restaurants to close their doors to the rhythmic footsteps of a parade of patrons pandering for a little bit of distraction or maybe just a little bit of fun.  When …

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