Wednesday, April 15, 2020

My body woke me up an hour early today, perhaps so I could stare the whole time at a line of moonlight from a crack in the drapes, falling on the back of your head.
My left shoulder has frozen again, and two years worth of physical therapy and a cortisone shot later I find myself back in pain, unable to reach out to you like before.
My tongue prefers the taste of cherry flavored antacids, my right calf swells and bruises under a varicose vein, my penis remains soft despite bottles of saw palmetto.

So this is 46, I think.
So this is a pandemic.
So this is you, me, today.