Season of The Isolationist, Hour 7

I never realized there was a term for my lifestyle

Guess they call it ‘social distancing’
I call it normalcy

Not that I’m misanthropic, I just don’t like people much
Especially when they congregate in large groups

Individually they’re ok I guess
But once there’s more than two or three I tend to look for some way to escape

Give me a backpack and a lonely peak
A desert
A barren wasteland
A deserted beach

The joyous cacophony of morning birds
Howl of wolves
Bark of coyotes

Rustle of leaves through trees
Scent of evergreen
Pristine mountain streams with water so cold it stings when you splash it on your face
The open ocean stretching to meet the sky at the horizon

Keep your parties, bars and festivals
Your silly groupthink premanufactured dreams
Your trends, fashions and popular fads
Your pandering and posturing

Apparently it’s the new normal
But it’s the old normal
Just with more masks,
More suspicion and paranoia
And extra hand washing

Don’t tell me to stay inside,
But I’m happy to stay 6 feet away and not shake hands
Happy to keep to myself and not deal with traffic
Or wait 5 minutes in line
Limited access to supplies can be a pain
But social distancing is just fine

5 thoughts on “Season of The Isolationist, Hour 7

  1. Dig this one. I got a love/hate relationship with humanity. I’ve always enjoyed nature as a reprieve from modernism and its excesses. Nature without humans. This piece totally brought those sentiments out.

  2. I enjoyed this. Most days, I exist as though I’m on an inner mission that has no time. Only when I have to go out and deal with people that I’m reminded the urgency of where we are. I felt that with this poem.

  3. Really well written; short, snappy and clever. The concept is one which very much resonates with me. Without externalising blame, or hanging up on negativity you give a clear argument for your own feelings pertaining to such a trying time. A refreshing step away from the regular rhetoric of ‘social distancing’.

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