Perusing the hardware store
(shops are limited these days)
nothing to tantalize the imagination
still, I browse, searching for normalcy.
Death loiters in aisle 9
taunts me with visions of life
once vibrant, now stolen
leers at me and I bolt
Grocery store holds more allure
ingredients to stir the appetite
the phantom stalks here too
leaves fingerprints on tin cans
The coffee shop has drinks to go
but the spectre follows, leers
schoolboy smug – I’m not sure
whether to laugh or cry
Unamused by the implications
and yet somehow reassured –
the humour doesn’t escape me –
warped this new norm.