The Great Depression

As a child,

the signs were still evident,

my maternal grandparents

had enough can food stored

under stairs of their basement

to last at least six months,

and in some ways,

my paternal grandpa

never quite recovered,

he was still too traumatized

from loosing his mother

as a child

in that other pandemic

of 1918.

The last year’s have been difficult

for us all, and forgive me,

I now fear things

just do not add up.

It’s not only the cost of eggs.

What about all the “free” shots,

and a revived European war?

Neither side of the aisle

will spill the beans because

no one wants to be left

holding the bag.

As I see my own capacity

to pay the bills dissipate

each month and watch

with horror

the geopolitical theatrics

on display, it’s not the great

depression,

but the potential of the greatest

that gives me pause.