Covid era Sunday on a clear afternoon.
No reason to watch white walls
And old binged Netflix
On a day without a cloud.

There was no sour dough starter.
Piles of canned food
Diapers.
This wasn’t stockpile.
It was a house of 9.

A put a n95 mask on my face
Periwinkle gloves on my hands
A hat on my hair.
If I got Covid it was the same as everyone
Coughing for weeks
Lying in bed
And that was the best case.

The store fronts were empty,
Closed
but the grocery hummed.
I take the third box in the row
So afraid covid is glued on them all.

I snag my jacket on a shelf.
Mutter a curse.
I’ll have to take a needle and sew that up
My 50 new pounds
Ate up my clothes.
Not much remains.

I get home
Spraying my boxes with alcohol
Still leaving them in the hall for 3 days.

What a waste of a cloud free day.