In time of social distance

and some of us will be smugglers
in the underground hug trade
black market kissers
purveyors of under the counter embraces
solicitors of indulgence
intimacy pushers on the bright side of the street
our only law will be affection
our currency will be love
from which there is no default

you will find us in the missing places
in the spaces between stony stares
in hospitable infirmaries
loitering by the private doors of public houses
holding hands like young lovers on a first night out
returning advances
transported by proximity
no one will ever be isolated
in our intensive care