Don - they tell me you're leaving
I can't believe it's true,
that we’ll get to live without you.

You’ll go away - govern-mentally,
after all this pain and misery.
When you go - I won’t miss you,
You never said a thing that was true.

Remember when - you hoaxed the virus fight.
What an idiot - you never got it right.
Trump never cared - for me or you,
but we might survive now that he's through.

So let’s discuss - the insurrection -
you provoked when you lost the election.
You got impeached for time number two
who said breaking up was hard to do?

Let’s say goodbye - and let it be,
I hear you’re going to do - Trump TV?
About the time you get that set up,
New York will come and lock you up.

Draw a stick figure
future - diminished
and virus ransomed.

Paint the landscape
with the sweltering glare
of global warming.

Come share this
with me - let kisses heal and
soft whispers inflame.

Some locks need two keys
to open; some heavens can
be reached by mortals.

What do theologians call a life without events?

The lights of my prison-like room dawn before sun's first blush.
I open sand-papery eyes as my AI announces the morning.

I begin the puppetry of morning routines:
I study my pale inmate face as I polish the porcelain.

I look less of a drowsy-angel than a zombie as I splash cold water
on the face with an almost determined lack of expression.

I’m absorbed in an ocean of predawn cold
as I 5-mile-walk away my sleepiness - this small freedom
- keeps me fit and acceptably sane.

Later, bathed in hot indifference,
and clothed in exhausting obligations,
I dine, at my reserved table, with my gang of irritations.

Soon I’m ready for another taxing day
of waiting for the disease to run its course.

Morning's induction act -
the sun breaks cover bright as
Los Alamo's flash.

.............I found
    some           words
that                              I
can                         use
       to                 bind
            you with

The question is:
“Are people still collecting
memories, these days?”

"This isolation
isn't bothering me much.”
I say, if I'm asked.

But I’m not sure that’s
true. After hundreds of nights
of dull solitude.

I think each night might
carry a value - of dear,
and unmeasured loss.

Loss of memories
- because they never happened.
How have we all changed?

Now I understand
why dogs get so excited
about going out.