i wanted you to feel exactly how you already feel under corona to feel exactly how you feel i wanted corona under you miserable exactly to feel to feel outside yourself and you without yourself

you wanted lines of passengers vivisecting boxes and makeshift interiors

i wanted exactitude nectar falling from the split of the earth above and the buzzing of wilderness and the shrill call of warblers beneath the parking lot as attendants squirt hand sanitiser into open palms

the other day night fell and i never made it back the next day everything was as it was again i woke a blinding white expanse ceaseless static clinging to my arms like cobweb falls

i wanted a holy verification in the cantaloupe and the cattail

did you know? it grows on the edges of highways and undisturbed plateaus. it brokers nothing. you find it between being and becoming. the panic of not.