You, Me and Virus Too

Since laying around for nearly a year

preening my space, devouring fear,

at home, now in situ, self-exodus rules

turning me inward, seeking the blues.

Splayed wide with a turquoise dream of down under

is my newest best friend, a bed nest to slumber

firm as cold fudge, a stiff whipped meringue wonder.

Binge everything powers our daily agendas.

Mindful consuming? Do we need a Miranda?

Like Pac-Man devouring the latest arrivals

or branch blasting Audrey seeking survival,

the sensational grubbing for real and fiction

from a bubble of screens somehow seems insufficient

to satiate our compulsive, misguided missions.

If you’ve had it or haven’t, just look to the stars,

play special numbers or scratch offs in cars.

Vague tea leave predictions along with your mask

should keep you through summer until your new task

as the country’s Poet Laureate of Covid Affairs,

you’ll mix it up anew with a Zoom bunch of squares,

tanned ghosts from the past sporting blue and pink hair.