The question these mornings of birdsong
to wear a mask or not
working from home:
intimacy inside out
like a glove
after this- will we all go back
without pretending
there’s no life back home
the commute as space travel
the atmosphere of the real left behind
no crying children, no flushing toilets,
no hammering next door
no washing up, no clothes drying
will we keep using virtual backgrounds
last year’s hols behind the blue screen
of yet another online meeting,
or maybe that poor chap’s dancing kids and
hurrying stressed-out wife
(the office worker has no clothes)
zoom in, skype me, hang out
make believe, do something else
mute the mic, camera off
what masks we are used to wearing
when the disease is something else
Everything is Connected 
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