Twice Brillo’ed was his nacho plate

A microcosm, yet somehow . . . 

A whimsy on the current state
Of our united states right now:

“Beware the job and work, my son!

The law that bites, the cause that frights!

Beware the media and shun

Those covetous of your rights!”

He took puerile Purell in hand –
Longtime the maximum germophobe –
So rested he ’til quarter to three,

And Skyped in his bathrobe.

He had stand-offish thoughts, and yet,

The job and work, through isolation,

Came whisking through the internet.

He burbled in frustration!

“Achoo! Achoo! It’s true!! It’s true!!”

A viral cascade on his snacks!
He left his bed, went to the head,

And came harrumphing back.

“And hast thou slaved at job and work?

Come to me, non-essential boy!

O hazard pay! Oil of Olay!”

He chortled, still employed.

Twice Brillo’ed was his nacho plate

A micro-chasm, and yet somehow

A whimsy on the current state
Of our united states just now.