on its way to a hip’s ball/ and socket
Once, existence was on/full speed, catching rumors.
The glass is how/we can see
his desire heated to almost a reckoning, and I
I waited for a stimulus check that I doubted would come.
I’d sip on my coffee while showing off my fishnet thigh-highs.
“I don’t see what you could do, unless you want to pay for a hotel room.”
Social distancing is a luxury only for the rich.
The beauty of code is instant gratification: I implement a feature, I test the feature, I see it work or fail.
I assume everyone is wondering when we’ll get to that third cup of wine.
Cash has grown more tattered than usual.
I saw you, Allen Ginsberg, gloveless.
The terrified revolutionaries binge on Netflix.
I say aloud, I want to love.
I get pulled over for speeding.
Every day: a penguin story.
Before the virus, we would kiss in our kitchen after the kids left for school.
You were a good liar because you lied to yourself.
I answered phone calls from my mother every two hours, so she could “check your voice for corona.”
Cholera was raging in the middle of August.
I wanted to be in the mountains when it happened.
Every day they would wash all surfaces with carbolic soap.
A month will become a year.
If I come across someone I make sure I am the first to ask about the screams.
We hold our breath, if the road’s too narrow.
We take an image of your chest each day.
With ISIS defeated and the conflict in Syria dwindling, this should have been a bustling season.
When she tires of reading, she comes over to burp in my ear.
“I wonder where we go when we die,” Calvin once said to Hobbes.
The earthquake woke us on the sixth day of the pandemic.
Give me your germs