Blocked At the End

Urban Living in the Time of COVID 

Standing by my car I first see cargo ships moving slowly along the horizon, then the birds and seals resting on the off shore rocks.  Commerce and nature are surviving during the pandemic.  Life goes on, at least out there.  By contrast, the Sutro Baths ruins below are devoid of the usual groups of people.  It’s just me and a lone fisherman at the shoreline now littered with carelessly dropped bottles, cardboard containers and discarded feathers from weeks ago. Crumbling cement walls keep the sea from rushing into the abandoned pools.  Stagnant water covered with iridescent green slime sits in the shallow pools farther inland.  I’m tempted to escape into the beckoning waves slapping the shore, but rusting barriers block my way.  There’s graffiti on a cement fragment spelling out “HOPE” that makes me smile, another saying “WHAM” that unsettles me yet again.  Maybe I should find refuge in the nearby cave until this feeling of dread passes.  I hesitate; it’s dark in there.