Glass bottles click clanking together, plastic bin
shuffled to curb, smashing to cement – just
another Monday. Pinball parading through bedrooms,
nothing to do but sit and wait and watch and bounce
from bedroom to basement to den to empty kitchen –
just for a different view of the same. Restlessness
building and building and building until
there’s no room for food, no need to adventure out to
grocery stores and their apocalyptic shelves stocked
with dust and riot shield workers watching you
– leper shunned – scavenge through checkout lines.
Building and building and building until
you rampage through hallways and out your front door,
racing your shadow through once empty streets now
daffodil dotted with “neighbors” – the word learned
only after thoroughly understanding “pandemic” –
racing and racing and racing into a future locked down
and fueled by hatred. Pent-up rage exploding
into maskless hoards stampeding through Times Square,
voices click clanking about “Changing The World” as
glass bottles thrown through store windows smashing
to cement – but it’s just another Monday.

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