NOTES FROM NOT QUITE QUARANTINE
It seems like everyone I know
is at risk. Though we don’t admit
it to ourselves. Such categories
apply to them, to others. We are
the lucky ones. Privilege beads
like light sweat on our folded arms.
Our kitchen counters shimmer from
frequent alcohol-based cleanings.
My temperature rises but only
when I watch news broadcasts. So far,
the mercury remains lodged in
normal range. I have not coughed.
We walk down empty hallways where
our neighbors once roamed easily.
The internet is our best friend.
Though it may soon crash while we watch
it burn. So far, I’ve seen the Louvre,
listened to YoYo Ma play Bach.
I’ve meditated to ocean sounds,
watched a swallow murmuration
sweep like question marks past a
blue sky’s claim to normalcy and,
from our window, seen magenta skies
caress Cathedral spires at sunset.
In Austin, Texas, Willie Nelson
is hosting a virtual songfest.
I’ve tuned in. Perhaps he’ll sing of
Pancho and Lefty -- how survival
can be a kindness. Or maybe,
simply, Wake Me When It’s Over.