Quarantined

Quarantined Waking up to this strange dream First sight is the checkered ceiling Then the antique bathroom mirror I see old age and worried red eyes I see another drawn day of breathing My beard is out of control with grey I am home now and not going out I hear helicopters often in the sky The morning time is escape time The missus and me watch another one Another end-of-the-world imitation Just like ice milk; not the real thing We sit and netflix the hours like sharks Devouring phony time with no incisors As with a glass vase holding heartbeats We know dinner time is the best time As another anxious nothing day slinks by There will be kitchen trips for comforts There will be basement sojourns for spirits But no afternoon excursions to the shops No possibility of even meeting stone statues Inside this wooden box is where we must hide Out of this window is as far as I can see Listen There is hopeful music in the distant rooms There are praying voices behind the closed doors