Snooze (Pandemic Life)

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According to my pill box, it’s Wednesday.

I hit snooze. 

I was proud of my morning routine, but have reverted back to my 24 year old pothead routine, without the pot. 

I’ve spent the last two years deepening the connections within my universe and expanding into new galaxies. 

I guess detached is fine too. 

I’ve gotten used to being without sunlight. This comfort induces fear that forces me outside every couple of weeks. 

What does it say about life when brand name toilet paper is a luxury? 

I talk all day, practicing for a real listener. 

I’m 50. I have diabetes. 

I was on Fulton Street the morning of September 11th. This isn’t new, working from my couch with the white noise of daytime news. 

I worry that I’ll choke or have a heart attack. 

How long would I lay?

  • Buy baby aspirin 
  • Write a will

I’ve gone a round with the other Big C. Preparing to be home for weeks, going out on the good days, I know how to do this –  

To live in fear

Of the outside

Of what’s inside 

Of me. 

This is familiar, comfortable. That’s why I don’t like it. 

I’m a formidable opponent.

I’ll strap on my shield and move forward, but let’s face it

Life is a single elimination game

And sometimes it’s just easier to hit snooze. 

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