The Apocalypse Diaries (Day Eleven: 3-23-2020)

 

I must’ve wondered if I’d ever see snow again. The snows of Christmas and Kilimanjaro. The snows at the end of winter when afternoons return. The snows of dawn and mittens pink and blue. I am mad for it to peck my nose and cheek. To perch upon my crown, to glisten on my sleeve, to wet along my boot soles, to hold the town in transfixed quietude. And now, as in response, as if on cue, the flakes engorge and fall as crystal galaxies, large and light, a hope from Heaven descending.

Seconds are full and beautiful. What’s a minute but a loaded hour? What’s a day but a glad eternity?

Outside is a Christmas wonderland. Outsidermore, humanity is caving.

Blue jays perch and frolic on my porch.

 

I think I’ll wear a suit and tie today

 

with Cole Haans and a pair of itchy socks.

 

And walk and clink my glass with fellow friends

 

whom I will see in pleasant days to come.

 

Maestro! Add a little Bach to that.

 

Or Brahms, perhaps. Salieri. Rolling Stones.

 

Escort the madam to her favorite chair.

 

I’ll have the double. Triple. Medium-rare,

 

Roasted asparagus, potatoes on the side.

 

A bowl of creamed spinach, an hourglass,

 

A chocolate hazelnut muffin at the end.

 

Barmaid, pour a round on us, around and ‘round the room!

 

Fantástico! Encore! Encore! Call in the bride and groom!

 

Commence the Dabka! You, in front, quit crowding up the line!

 

And upward gazes locking eyes, in hopes she won’t decline.

 

And All Around the Mulberry Bush, but on will make you sick

 

From eyes and nose and mouth, but hey, at least it’s not your dick!

 

NAnee-naNEE-nanee-NAneeNanee

 

 

 

 

Nanee-nanee Nana NEENEE

 

 

 

 

 

NAnee-naNEE-lalee-LEleeLalee

 

 

 

 

 

 

LEE lala-LA LEELEE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Eyes, nose, mouth. Got it. What about ears? Pee-hole? Anus? Belly-button? Testicles?? Can it invade telepathically? Can it crawl under fingernails?

No, that’s silly. Viruses can’t crawl.

 

 

 

 

NOTES

The snows of…Kilimanjaro “The Snows of Kilimanjaro” by Ernest Hemingway. at the end…return “The Poems of Our Climate” by Wallace Stevens. I am mad for it “Song of Myself, 2” by Walt Whitman. Cole Haans a footwear brand. Bach, Johann Sebastian (1685-1750). Brahms, Johann (1833-1897). Salieri “Amadeus”, 1984. Rolling Stones rock band, London 1962. Dabka a Levantine folk dance. All Around…Bush an 18th century English nursery rhyme.

 

 

Read more by Yousef Alqamoussi.

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