This damn apnea—my brain is craving oxygen

during the height of Omicron—will I ever catch

my breath / without a mask, outside? I need some

REMs (love the band, but this is the real thing), cool things

while I sleep—I need to get my heart pounding NOW

while I am awake: walking everywhere, steps; to catch

up, I drink cold pressed red juice (strawberry & stuff)

so I can concentrate—to write this poem now, & some-

time tomorrow when I get a free moment (or, just now),

while the expressions run away from me, claiming stuff

& new things to create, while we tools still run on oxygen.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *