Spring Break

the setting sun
more beautiful
on your face

high above
whole cities
become gridlines

airplane seats
f and d 17
exchanging life experiences

I drive home
further from him
mile by mile

sand at the bottom of my pocket
from sea shells
she asked me to hold

ring marks
from sweating drinks
conversation for two

reunited with family . . .
through photos
we revisit the past

spring cleaning
opened up a box
of my dirty laundry

late night drive
looking at houses
searching for the perfect one

I shift in my seat
tired, uncomfortable
from the sunburn

Why
do I feel like 
I'm being shipped off?

natural hair
no makeup
beach day

tossing clothes
quickly into the suitcase
ready to get home

sand
scattered in the house,
after a long day at the beach

Netflix
scrolling through . . .
to find something new

me
my bed
my only roommate

on the edge
        of my seat
                a smile

surprise visitation
the sun and the sand
sighing

warm sunshine
we cross the bridge
to another world

alligators and queens
float by us
we dance to catch purple beads

late night
chit chat
empty beer bottles

an unexplored adventure
gathering dust.
what day is it?

long trip home
a lady bug 
my passenger

sand in my eyes
let's play beach volleyball 
again

red dirt
like sand
softball jerseys stained

red seams
grip my fingers
she’s out!

palm tree
after palm tree
lining the roadway

sun setting
we sit on the curb
deciphering our dreams

watching another movie
my responsibilities
sitting on the chair in the corner

back home after the funeral
things are . . .
different

2 week spring break
I rearranged my room
to past time

okay now,
I’m tired . . .
of walking the dog

leaving the house
keys jangling
the stray kitten comes out to play

Coronavirus

empty roads
I look out the window
has the world stopped?

dinging iPhone email
from President Patrick White
no more face to face classes

cancelled
our last semester
goodbye at move out

extend spring break
outbreak
. . .

trying to name it
the color of the walls
in your room

craving something
untouchable
6 ft away

downtown Chicago
hand sanitizer in my pocket
to stay healthy

my best friend moved home
finally reunited
but stuck on Facetime

first family game night
laughter echoes
quarantine day 6

and the earth
took one big
deep breath

call after call
text after text
let the change begin

planning for
tomorrow
whatever that will be

we sit at home
and start with
the corners and edges

caps and gowns
tassels and diplomas
we walk to the fridge

Facetime call
missing those late night
runs

our last moments
of senior year
drowned in mimosas

singing happy birthday
to myself
soap suds fly

feeling my hands
cracked
from washing

I told the storm
to pass
I command you to move today

social distancing
no school or work for some
let’s get closer to God!

trust in God
it’ll be all over . . .
in the morning

a large crowd
suddenly scatters . . . at
the sound of a sneeze

fear and doubt
with each shaking breath,
we will be okay

streets once filled
now empty,
just the streetlight and me

cloudy day
I wait . . .
to be free again

watching a movie
sipping on Diet Coke
social distancing

no food
no toilet paper
is this the end?

nobody
in sight
virus ghost town

12 hrs . . .
hospital
all night long

trapped
invisible bars
I’ve done nothing

walking into work
I put on my mask
hoping it covers . . . the fear on my face

move the furniture
slide on character heels
the living room is my new dance studio

a trip to Walmart
used to be fun
crazy people ruin everything

homework
the only thing
keeping me sane

doing 80 in a 65
forgetting the risk
just wanting to get home

news alerts
daily worry about
the unknown pandemic

different news each day
from every which way
hysteria creeps in

cup of ashes
getting fuller
they become hopeless

amidst the disorder
she’s not affected
her own world . . .

warmth gathers
family game night . . .
again

the entire family
on a giant, grey couch
Mario Party

social distancing
returning to campus
my mom hugs me anyway

days spent inside
wishing for
a sense of normalcy

grocery store
devoid of people
and toilet paper

all this silence
dusty shelves
paid a visit

as I talk
the quiet echoes
to the wall

cool glass
between their palms
first time apart

we will make up
the memories taken
only time will tell

shortness of breath—
it’s just me
being anxious

spring break
it feels like
the world is b r e a k i n g

turn on my tv
all the media
coronavirus!

i put on jeans
just 
to feel something

mask
gloves
cover me from head to toe

Coronavirus
channel 2, 5, 10, 14, 26, 32, 38...187
I cannot escape

I watch
a man
fill his cart with toilet paper

feeling their
hugs and kisses,
six feet away

"a bad cold"
they said.
famous last words

a game of Scrabble
W  H  I  T  E
            I
            L
            E
            S