Atrophy

Mar 11

Kitchen.

Afternoon.

2:32 on the microwave clock,

2:34 on the oven clock,

2:31 on my computer’s clock,

doors are locked.

I think?

Basil plant in the corner on the baby feeding chair.

Note: It needs a new pot and fresh tap water,

it’s being held up by takeout chop sticks.

Every corner has a pile of dog hair,

we pretend to be unaware

of the buildup

of dog hair.

Gaudi lizard on the wall from that one time in Spain.

Decorative soap dispenser peeking at me through a crack between the wall the the half bath door.

“Douche Orange” smells like orange flavored cough syrup.

Grape stem in a bowl next to a blue mug with coffee residue.

Olive oil, salt and pepper, pastry spatula and wooden spoon.

Granite counter tops and stainless steel.

Deep breath,

lysol air.

I’m drunk on the

Suburbia.

Quarantine Poem #1