It isn't fun,

When you're holed up,

Crammed in your nook..

It isn't fun,

When all the days are same,

When all the looks

Make you feel more tired...

The blinking phone,

The drowsy lanes,

The coffee gone cold,

The silent rains.

Day melts into night,

And bleeds into day.

No difference between

The different days...

Tired of being

So tired.

Another lockdown.

Really?

You really want some air,

To fill your lungs to the brim.

We want to put an end

To this nightmarish dream..

The lake feels vital, now, even more than before Covid. I’ve paddled Keuka’s waters, swum in them, and on its shores I’ve picnicked, sipped wine, gotten married. For 15 years we’ve lived a short drive away, and to go somewhere in April and May we’d pick up ice cream at a drive thru and take it to a park just below the north tip so we’d remember it was there. As I type I hear Keuka through the window of this rented house, waves rushing in and wind blowing its moisture undetectably onto my skin. It’s beneath the skin, too: a lake is personal, just as a lake is infinite. Yesterday I crested waves around the bluff just after dawn, but this morning it was placid, and I laid the paddle across the kayak to join the stillness. Drifting in the wideness, the world felt large again.

zoom.

it's all

on zoom

now.

those tiny

snatches of

video,

an unauthentic

slice of

somebody else's

life.

pixelated

glitchy

frames,

unblinking

staring

faces.

and the

echo,

the cursed

echo-

it comes out

of nowhere

courtesy

of someone's

bad internet

connection-

but i mean,

who doesn't

have bad

connection

these

days?

and then,

there's those

people,

with their

mic

and video

off.

they're

obviously

watching

YouTube.

so why the heck

are they even

here?

a chat

spiralling

out of control,

getting political.

is anyone

even paying

attention?

it's all

so

chaotic.

zoom.

a beautiful

tragedy

born

from

corona.

It's been over four months now since either of us has gone to a barber/salon

It's been over two months since I raided the hair care section at the grocery store

It's been over a month since my partner switched to wearing

a bright

neon-green

scrunchy

It's been every day that I struggle to wake up, only to realize -

This is the most adorable thing I've ever seen.

<3

Death dons a new face

and the whole world hides behind a mask,

has quarantined itself indoors;

yet, each morning brings new mourning

as statistics continue to worsen.

The odds are in our favor

but every day I still read story

after story

after story

of those lost to this virus,

those whose odds were not favorable.

Sure, my chance of survival is high but what if

I’ve made a mistake,

my preventative measures not cautious enough?

Any day now, it could be my name in the paper,

just another number lost in the statistics.

I obsessively look out the window

keeping watch for an enemy impossible to see.

Like this old house, my body groans and creaks;

every new noise has me panicked

about an unwanted visitor.

There is always a thermometer in my mouth now,

the constant smell of bleach on every surface.

I have not felt my lover’s touch in months.

We promised to let nothing come between us—

all it’s taken is 125 nanometers.

There is a killer on the loose

600 times smaller than the diameter of a strand of hair,

her hair that used to be everywhere.

Her smell in my clothes, in my sheets,

the subtle reminders of her frequent presence

washed away with disinfectant.

We must stand apart now

to improve the odds we can live a long life

together when this is all over.

This is the happiest love I’ve ever known

and I stay awake at night worried

that I won’t make it long enough to hold her again,

that I’ll wake up in a lonely hospital room,

machines keeping me alive.

I stay awake at night worried

that all the bleach, all the Lysol,

all the masks the in world, all the distance

won’t make a difference.

I stay awake at night worried

that I will be prematurely plucked from this life

and never get the chance to love her

for as long or as much as she deserves.

coating my hands with this alcoholic based liquid

breathing into the quietness

when what I smell is miasma, the stench

trying to undo and wash away my sins

humans didn’t care,

appreciate the bliss, 

now it’s a nightmare

this alcohol-based sanitizer,

went beyond the skin

to clear away those sins

now we cherish those days

when we had the freedom

now we appreciate that

when we’re stuck in a cage.

distances bought us closer

the mask is worn to filter the air,

prevention is better than cure,

so why do we commit a crime and undo it?

before I wore a mask to conceal my emotions

now its shown as an act of love

quarantine makes me realize

is shutting ourselves in four walls so difficult?

when we are pacing in our lives

forgetting about the world

friend, family, 

we have shut our minds in quarantine

but now I have finished the isolation of my mind

when I think of the past 

it makes me realize how inhumans- humans are

tangled in this mess of life

forgetting about others.

https://youtu.be/d0AoRkmj9YM

it came in from the air

made reality seem surreal

bearing fear,

mingled with wonder

to assuage those apprehensions,

i didn’t bother to check the past

seems most didn’t,

the idea did not dawn,

social media seemed unawares,

wanna be news networks,

didn’t seem to,

refer to,

defer to,

explicitly enough to,

“hey, this has happened before like this

and this,

see?

we live in a world with knowledge replete,

bursting with information

the thing just moved with the flow,

making its demands,

like in losing our freedoms,

as skepticism abounded,

as to,

whether to,

wear the mask

such are minds devoid of history,

though it lies at the door,

undisturbed,

unconsulted,

so the mind,

as if on crutches,

swoons

carried by speculation,

its orgin,

pathogenicity,

politically

economically,

socially devastatedly,

via unabated theories manifoldedly,

whether this or that,

blah and blah again, . . .

were or would be,

could be true,

may be,

unassuredly,

sprang,

until,

until the page is turned

and there,

in full view,

for the masses to see

is the rosetta stone,

the missing link

to understanding’s release . . .

and so it was for me,

as i,

perhaps by providence,

stumbled,

upon

the spanish plague account

replete with images

black and white,

grainy,

of the world,

of america’s cops,

the public at large,

wearing masks

no,

it wasn’t a governmental conspiracy,

it was two and three real rebounds

during the afore cited

youtube link of the thing,

complete pandemic pandemonia

millions upon millions,

really did die,

along with all the drama,

like a script,

recorded,

for posterity’s rehearsal

historical distancing

classic case of the proverbial adage:

. . . those who ignore . . . blah

blah, ignore history . . . blah

are destined . . . to

the historical footage is real

retrospectively enough,

retroactively adequate,

to make me feel foolish,

to acquiece to the knowledge of error,

the failure to see

the stupid mask,

is not so stupid now

its inconvenience,

its impingement of our blah,

blah, rights,

the freedom to dine in restaurants,

to hit the beach, . . .

until now,

is for me,

to see that its happened before,

a catalyst to surmise,

to think

it brings to mind,

the likes of louis pasteur, et al,

microbes,

preventative science,

knowledge replete,

ad infinitum

our biggest offense,

is to be ignorantly in league with ignorance

the reactions were the same of yesterday,

to yield,

or not,

to live or,

maybe not

to wear or not to wear,

that is the question that i ask of thee

to concede defeat of conceit,

of vain inconvenience,

in the midst of controversy,

caught in the milieu of history and science

is wise,

of me i speak

learn from the past,

shrug off the pride,

bathed in sheepishness,

i wear the mask,

is it really too much to ask

’til this thing be overpast?

wear the mask,

if nothing else,

and know,

that none of us,

no one,

is invulnerable

It started out fine. Just a break that’s all.

I didn’t know it would last up til fall.

Sent home from work and school alike.

Thats not bad. I‘ll take a ride on my bike.

What? I can’t even leave my own little yard?

That’s going to be tough to try to regard.

I’m stuck at home and can’t go out.

I don’t have a reason to be up and about.

I’ll sit here, recline,

drink a small glass of wine.

Five months of that,

I’ll be totally fat!

I need to get up, do the chores

wash the floors, windows, and doors.

I start my spring cleaning spree.

I clean til I’ve got every last bit of debris.

Now what to do? I’ve been put to the test.

At this point should I even get dressed?

I’m going crazy day by day.

No friends, no fun, just stay, stay, stay.

I picked up a hobby here and there,

so I wouldn’t risk pulling out all of my hair.

Badminton, breakdancing, beading, baking,

I even at one point tried candlestick making.

I pinned and I sewed ten pairs of shorts.

Now it’s time I learned some new sports.

I’m good at tennis, and my sister can play.

But the shipment of balls has a minor delay.

Basketball? No. I don’t have a hoop.

Basketball also requires a sizable group.

Football? Mmm, no. Soccer? Takes room.

Quidditch it is! Run and get us a broom.

I’ll get out my costume and paint on a scar.

The snitch will be a remote controlled car.

The quaffle a soccer ball.

The bludger a baseball.

Get the family out! We’ll have us a game.

Wait, they said that quidditch is lame?

I sulk back indoors and cannot decide.

What can I do that I haven’t already tried?

I’m hungry, I think. I go get a snack.

Twenty minutes later, I’m already back.

All I have is family home with me here.

They make me so crazy at times that I fear

my sanity has been stolen

and my brain has been swollen

from thinking too much

about my clogs being Dutch.

And sometimes I have fears

that this could go on for years.

But for now I just hope for the best

and try not to be stressed.

This will all be gone by the time I die...

Psych! That was a big lie.

I’ll probably catch it and end up in bed,

have to stay in a hospital until I am dead.

Quarentine sucks, but it is for the best.

We get to stay home and get to have rest.

The chrysanthemum was a lovely species of dendranthema grandiflora. It's favorite season, of course, was spring; for, the acoustics of the wind and the vibrations of pollinating insects keptife exciting. Not only was this equinox beautiful, it was desirable because the once housebound human reappeared-whistling on a walk, playing with laughing children in the park and sitting close by on the green grass with a bounteous feast of varied treats packed in a picnic basket. The smell is something I've dreadfully missed, as it seemed to bankrupt me of the knowledge that I was but a flower and could not enjoy the delightful tastes.

That biographical sketch was life then, when the wind blew me back and forth and the human took the time to observe my beauty and when bouquets were created for parties-a time when my friends and I could feel useful to society. All has changed now. Life used to teems with busy activity, yet now all of the humans are in hiding. There is no one to marvel at my fine lines and inquisitive nature. The epidemic has taken away our value and it is as though I shall never be the same.

I met Ned at a neighborhood gathering in Spring of 2019 with no physical attraction or even a second thought. In November I saw him at another party on the street and again he did not stir any emotions or curiosity. My disinterest could be attributed to the fact that I was in a relationship with Elmer and conversations of living together had become serious. Elmer and I had been dating for 18 years and I could never commit to marriage due to my PTSD from my failed marriage to my childrens’ father. Mark’s abusive nature ruined my hope for ever trusting another man to be my partner for life. Elmer and I had zero in common but we enjoyed each others company. He had never voted until 2016 when he was all about Trump and I held my tongue more often than not as I was not a fan. Along came 2020 with Covid 19, civil unrest, and an emergency shutdown of the country which led to a heated discussion turned argument that ended the relationship. Grateful that this revelation happened before I moved in with him made the transition easier but definitely added to my level of anxiety.

The stay at home orders in April had me spending the majority of time outdoors in a hammock and walking my dog every four hours. Front porch time led to an increase in conversations with neighbors and another run in with Ned. At this time with Elmer out of the picture I looked at Ned the neighbor differently. I found him amusing and he made it clear that he liked my company as well. We loved the same music and would dance until way past my bedtime. The chemistry was undeniable and for him to be so conveniently located two doors down was a bonus. I had hit the Pandemic Jackpot of stay at home orders. We played dominoes, pickled peppers and okra from his garden, watched The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings trilogy, and naturally made each other laugh out loud.

We quickly became neighborfriends with benefits but it seemed to be so much more.

For the first time ever I was comfortable in my own skin. Could Ned by my person?

I didn’t want this fairytale to end but now he is socially distancing himself leading me to believe this was just a pandemic fling. At 54 years old the feelings of rejection sting and have me questioning if I did something wrong, said something inappropriate, have halitosis or like Jimmy Buffet music - not to be enjoyed every single day. Agonizing over the reasons why he lost interest overnight have me feeling like a silly teenager. Perhaps it has nothing to do with me and he is just moody or has multiple personalities. Regardless of the reason, I am working hard to focus on the refreshing fun times we had together rather than dwell on the absence of my pandemic fling neighborfriend. It was entertaining to daydream about actually falling in love again but I will chalk it up to my silver lining to 2020.