I once read of a time 
when strangers
could touch.
They would kiss hello
and reach out
friendly hands
in greeting.

They would join,
often in one room,
to laugh
and dance
and grieve.
All, together.

Of course, this was before.

They would “mingle”.
A quaint, 
old-fashioned word
I had to look up.
To be with or among
other people
with no regard 
to safety.

There were pictures
of people laughing
in crowds.
No masks.
No distance.
Happy.

Madness, I know.