What Stage of Pandemic Is This?
Adrift in a timeless plague state
Here we are — leaves falling, chill creeping, apples in the oven — ages after the great panic sent us all into hiding. We are vaxed. We are masked, still hiding, and appropriately unsettled. We are also, somehow, carrying on.
Is this lockdown? Extended lockdown? Partial lockdown? Limbo lockdown?
I don’t feel particularly isolated, but I don’t want to see you. I love you, of course, and maybe I’ll write or even call, but I’d rather not swap cold weather indoor air with you. Back to Zoom book club, after a few summer outdoor hangs, where we talked mostly about the apocalypse. We still muse about the end times, but we’re better at this now. Whatever this is. We’re adjusting.
Streaming the fifth episode of the dozenth series, an ad asks, “Are you ready for flu season?” No, I am not ready for flu season, badgering TV lady. Is flu season an issue if you refuse to congregate? If you always wear a mask while purchasing essentials? We will not be coming to your thing and you are not invited here. I can’t remember what the inside of a restaurant looks like and parties are so 2019. I won’t be getting the flu.
Things look the same through the wavy windows of my old house. The evening light is still enchanting, the field across the street is…
