The masked men and women 
drive around in fear of the end
of life as they know it. They
were first in line to get those 
masks. They are afraid just like
everyone. No one knows who 
will be the first to get it, the one
disease everyone knows about,
that was not thought about last
year. Who will save us all?
                        

If you don’t know what to do,

you are not alone. I won’t lie 
to you and that is the truth.
It is quite alright to feel that way.
It is not like anyone has the cure.
If it makes you feel better, I have
found things to do to pass the time.
The most powerful man in the world 
will not save you from oblivion.
I have never bought into his lies.
Protect yourself by tuning out

to his face on your tv screen. It is
easy. You can leave the house to
buy food. Life as we know it is not
the same. This is not the time to
empty out the toilet paper aisle.

Take a breath. Take two breaths.
Feel the softness of your pillow
and take a good nap. The time will
go by fast. Have a cold drink and
smell the roses or the food you
prepare. Keep long distances from
others. Don’t lose your car keys in
case you want to take a drive. The
oblivion that is coming may or may
not come to you. I am pulling for you.
                        

The day buzzed on.
The sun was a mere fixture.
The streets were empty.
The cars stayed parked.
Still signs of life.
The wind blew 
the tree back and forth.
Still on the couch
I could not feel the air.
I talked to myself.

I went from one room
to another to find room 
to think. Both rooms
were a bit small
with a world inside 
falling apart.
My poor memory 
was lost under my feet.
I stepped on it
walking in a straight line.

The doors opened
and air came inside.
The house was alive
with chilled air.
I stopped talking and
welcomed the air.
It was an endless kind
of air. My side ached
from the cold air.
The empty room was
full of air.
Almost everything 
was air. What could I 
say to make the air
go away? Open the door
once again? The door
was as solid as the air.

I waited an hour 
to shape my thoughts.
The air went out of the room
but it still felt cold.
My side ached.
A finger tip was frozen.
I felt it going limp,
weightless, until 
I passed out,
and closed my eyes.

Now the air left its mark
in each room.
From the couch I slept 
with my dreams,
and body cold as as corpse.
The sun was a mere fixture 
outside. I was upside down 
buried in sleep.
I could not feel a thing.
The branches outside
recoiled from the cold air.

My body was immobilized 
in this space so cold.

The air made an icicle of me.

The air was in my dream 
building ice sculptures of me
and scattering them
like snowflakes.

The air felled the tree outside.

Now the air was in my thoughts 

talking to me.