Early Saturday Morning Pandemic Dream

walking becomes
riding a bike becomes
scooting between highway lanes
in an unidentifiable capsule
deep blue with white racing stripes

trying to get back

to the Bronx

your brothers play war

simulations in your bedroom closet

trying to get back

to the Bronx

where’s the #1 train
no one wears a mask
where’s your filter
take the N or the R
a stranger nowhere
near you says


where’s the light switch

to turn off

this nonsense

trying to

get back

to the Bronx
how did they
get in there
tails hidden
you follow
the #1 rule

of improv

don’t deny it

you’re lost

it’s the tell a story


you reject

without a way home
out of this offline
memory reprocessing
preparation for possible
future threats where the Bronx
is the only safe haven

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