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.