So, yeah, I was going to avoid having to write about SARS if at all possible, but since the World Health Organization declared Toronto a death zone, I figure it’s kind of unavoidable.

Actually, I should stop right here and try to be balanced about things, for once. The WHO didn’t declare Toronto a death zone; they simply said that anyone who’s interested in remaining healthy and SARS-free should stay far, far away from Toronto. Implying that Toronto is a death zone is hardly anything that they should be ashamed of, since the lucrative summer tourism season is barely ever affected by huge announcements of terrifying epidemics.

The newspapers here are full of stories using words like “fury,” or “controversy” or “outrage,” since they can’t at all comprehend why people would be panicking about the illness that’s claimed 16 lives here in the city. The fact that the media has been covering SARS with a zeal that embarrasses the half-assed West Nile Virus paranoia of last summer doesn’t enter into it at all, I’m certain — it’s one thing to magnify and crystallize the choking fear among the local population, but it’s really quite unreasonable of foreigners to actually listen to the hype.

So, to help you become part of the SARS culture, and allow to enjoy the fear and hysteria that’s gripping Toronto and the world, I’m supplying a small collection of haiku poems that I wrote today, inspired by a conversation I overheard between a couple of co-workers who were trying very hard to scare the shit out of an American.

1.

They pause to peer in,
as if it’s their new coffin:
The elevator.

2.

I have never used
so much Purell in my life.
My hands reek like booze.

3.

Where are all the dead?
The streets should be littered with them;
WHO says there’s a plague.

4.

SARS? I fear it not.
You’re Bob, from the health clinic?
Nice to (cough) meet you.

5.

Does a mask help you
accomplish much, aside from
looking ludicrous?

6.

A sign says KEEP OUT,
check your symptoms or fuck off.
The doctors stay safe.

7.

Come to think of it,
“Quarantine” sounds a lot like
“10 day vacation.”

8.

God, man, put away
your Lysol can! SARS can’t live
on theatre seats.

9.

Strange that I am viewed
cautiously by guys who don’t
wash after they pee.

10.

A war over where?
Should I care about that, now
that SARS could dust me?