Pandemic Poems - APRIL 2020
Now we’re on lockdown, told we have to stop activities that might expose us to the rising crop of virus. On penalty of death, we stay at home and mop or write or chat with buddies on the phone and laptop; we cultivate our gardens. Mostly, I haven’t moped, have given up my daily rituals without much pain, but one pesky constant never seems to wane: I just can’t shake the urge to shop for food or clothes, if possible, in person. I know the origin of this pernicious itch. My parents spent their lives in shopping malls. They hoarded bargains in the guest room, in the basement, in the hall. I caught the bug. But all my promises to change have been a flop. I get up early, scan search engines for the “necessary” crap I’m craving, radar twitching like a rabbit’s nose at the thought of all the bucks I might be saving. I’d like to lop this habit from my life as though it were long toenails that could use a cropping, but it’s a major bummer to give up my shopping.
©2020 Robbi Nester
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