Shelter in Place

No. Not weed. My lungs are sore and gorged.
No, we drank all of the beer last night.
But I have sour mix. I could make drinks.
Look up if the liquor store is open.
I’m full. I’m sick. It’s much too late and I
Am tired and this feels surreal already.
Oh god, don’t even think about an upper.
I am too tired. My head hurts. We should
Fuck, maybe it will help my headache.
But first just let me wash my hands. Oh,
Come now. Please, don’t take this out on me.
Where will you go? The house feels large and empty.
It’s almost April. Outside it’s snowing. The flakes
Fall down to where they idly sit and melt.