Post-Covid Paradise

Though I did admire the artistry
of costumed humanity, the sunny arc of beads
defying gravity,

the raucous throng of carnival,
the collective roar of Mardi Gras
was not my Shangri-la.

My idea of paradise was                        
an umbrella drink on an empty beach,                            
a day alone writing to my heart’s content,
a solo voyage on a Sunfish,
the thrill of distance diminishing
hails from a crowded shore.

Now, heaven would be a parade,
friends hugging,
strangers’ shoulders touching,
hands joining ‘round the same shiny throw,
then swiftly spreading
open-throated, open-handed
letting go.