my clothes to the surfaces of the tables in the laundromat. So, I fold them outside in my crammed car. Isnβt that bizarre!
Afraid to touch the door handle to walk in. A stranger touched it. Their germs have left an imprint.
Afraid to touch the ten-dollar bill - a million germs on it still. But the machines won't work without money.
Afraid to touch my eye to scratch an itch. My hand might carry the germ from the door. Now my eye has a twitch from an itch. And Iβm going to sneeze!
Afraid to touch my sock that fell on the floor. Afraid to go out into the street. I'll meet more people I can't stop and talk to without a bullhorn.