Welcome to the Timeless Zone,
Vast as space and timeless as infinity.
A surreal dimension
Located somewhere between
A normal New Year 2020
And the imagined end
Of the Coronavirus Lockdown.
A dimension of sight, sound and mind
Taking us from the pit of superstition and fear,
To the sunlight of scientific knowledge.
The days pass endlessly
As we look for something to do
Again and again.
No meetings to go to,
Our year-planners and diaries
Consigned to being buried in dust.
Here we sit
Idly watching TV
Or catching up on household chores.
We take a daily walk
And occasionally pop to the shops.
Shops that is, where you have to follow the arrows
Keep in your own little zone
Do Not Pass Go
Go straight to Jail –
I mean The Counter:
Once you have followed the maze
Of often empty shelves
Ransacked by Panic Buyers.
And at the counter you are served
By workers in gloves and plastic visors.
You must stay behind that line!
But mainly we sit like zombies,
Passing away the time.
At least the pressure is off:
Nowhere to go
Nothing to do.
A sign up ahead.
Maybe a crossing.
I hope it says
© PB 19\4\2020. With due credit to “The Twilight Zone” TV series.
As we endure the Covid-19 Pandemic...
Somewhere in between
Tranquility and the twilight zone
I find myself in a timeless trace.
Unable to find the words
To express my endless love for you -
Longing to cherish you for all of eternity.
I sit in a burgundy leather chair at work
Hoping that I don't get fired.
But I tried downloading an unauthorized program onto my computer
And a pop-up with the word *******
Flashed across the screen when I went to check the baseball scores.
Maybe I will forsake this whole ******* life
And run off into a hermitage
Heaping ashes on myself, prostrated before a cheap wax statue.
But on some level what I'm really doing
Is avoiding responsibility.
I'm dreading the drive home, to be honest
Because I know you will greet me with that fiery anger
That paradoxically gives me an *******
But also breaks my heart.
Maybe I can just walk in the door
***** preemptively sealed in a yellowed Mason jar,
"Just stay right where you are, Steve."
"We don't want any trouble..."
this is a ****** poem
— The End —