Isolation Diary

Still healthy, staying home

Is restful. I feel almost patriotic.

Perhaps I should keep a diary.

Day three. Work.

Alone, I dredge up motivation.

People were distraction.

I start three new Google documents, fill a spreadsheet.

And line up pens and notebooks.

I do not use notebooks.

Day four. Shopping

I puzzle over cans. Creamed corn? Sardines?

Toilet paper gone, I buy napkins

Feeling clever. 

The checkout lady wears a bandit mask.

Day seven. Work.

My desk is too short. My chair is too high.

The light from the window is too bright,

Taunting, somehow malign.

Zoom meetings are a lifeline.

Onscreen my neck stretches giraffe-like.

The newscast mentions bodybags.

A day, sometime.

I study exponential curves.

Maps have circles on them.

How many dead faces are there in a dot?

I am tired of canned fish.

A time when days have lost meaning.

On the news someone is mouthing

Words about the economy.

They say the words again;

The graphs change.

Outside the window birds congregate,

In turn watching me.

I fear their conviviality.

Is this revenge?

Image is public domain, an Audubon painting of mockingbirds.