Take away my feelings,
You take the
press, **** and poke,
the nudge, palm and *****;
my caress, hug and tap,
my hold, tag and grip.
where's embrace, wrap and push,
entwine, rub and clutch;
                 and more.
take a glance, paw and grasp,
a nuzzle, scratch or clasp;
an itch, clench and handle,
my entangle and ******
all gone... all lost.

They have taken away my touch,
Making it hard to say Good-bye.

in time,
we're vulnerable.
sitting and waiting
days pass
as we don't sit in class.
everyone around us
Fragile as glass.
Families hurt
Jobs on pause
While the news plays
more pain
everyday.
Lives gone
so fast
At the snap of a finger.
The world froze
as we search for hope.

Year is 2020🤲🏽
Nothing seems getting serious 😔
Everything right seems wrong
The rib I thought was mine all gone😂
**** did I have to pass through this year
Or could I not get shortcut to year 2022
Watch World Cup along with my silly cat I bought
I don't do politics so I would stay July only
Get back to 2020

the real virus is ignorance
and you choose not to wear your mask
infecting those around you with selfishness and cocky insecurities

the rising stench of death
is the aroma of entitlement
and lack of respect for humanity
that you parade around like a tattoo

the weak signing their own death sentences
being forced to prepare goodbyes
without the chance
to have a say

you aren't god karen

Hello happy hour!
I see you're now reduced
to fifteen minutes of
soft drinks and
smiling depression:
simper and wine.
check that...Sprite.

But I'll drink to
nagging doubt anyway.

Cars are now a kick.
Who knew gridlock
could offer such joyride:
the drive home each day
my ******* sabbatical.

I wrote 3 letters the other day
(the handwritten, paper kind)
and feel a little
like Jane Austen.
I think she'd like Dr. Pepper,
but not Mr. Pibb.
Too foppish.

Then there's this:
the wax and wane
of life between the bed
and the couch.
There's six degrees
of separation
through the five layers
of this reusable face mask.

Speaking of masks:
"one for the money,
two for the show,
three to make ready
and four to go."

And somehow I know
I will never breathe it in
that way again.

Random curtain calls:
I'm so starved for someone
to talk to; the mail lady
had me at "hello."
I offered her a soda.
Mail order catalogs are king.
The Saturday Night Special
from the burglar alarm brochure
was my final good buy.