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The Unlikable Social Life

Could the air we breathe be seeds of anxiety? Winter flowers bloom in diamond breeze. Watery eyes searching for handout charity. To form a habit with the cold and sneeze. Bittersweet social scene for this moment, when we are forced to suspend activities. We couldn’t have predicted this torment. Like a box of chocolates virtual celebrities. We wind away hours on our backs and bum. Going cold while conspiring with a friend. The state we are in has gone hot on Instagram. Arguing in whispers and chuckling to the end. With power ensconced stuck at the head. Social life has a new brand of epicenter. Making us feel drained and heavy as lead. The likely place to rest with an isolated fever. Sat in our little green space, a vibrant escape Some have never left the tonic for daily life. And a chance to let the stress incubate. Dissolved in the air to another greater site. The lengthy, the brief, the confounding season, the engraving; reminds me of sad memories. Where obscured plaques enter without a reason Look out for inscriptions but find only stories. For the first time in years, life is sliding dossier. That takes place almost entirely in the home. The anonymity we have forged together. Becoming clowns with no safe salary to come.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2020




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Date: 11/25/2020 7:07:00 PM
No need to write 2020 we know the second we read this. Surreal is our new reality for sure!
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Date: 11/25/2020 3:49:00 PM
Yep Gerald, I would say you've pretty much nailed it with this poem. A fine write - Bill
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