I Go Nowhere

I Go Nowhere

By Stephanie Peirce

I go nowhere.
I enter no buildings.
After hours I enter a post office lobby wearing a mask.

A mask is no longer a metaphor,

It’s a soft thing which clings to your face like a bat.

You hear your own breathing.
Your breath builds up.

There is one woman there,
Wearing a mask,
And she stands back as far across the room as she can,
So politely,
To allow me to enter.

Then she exits the door
And I am once again all alone,

Two masked ships passing in the night.

Even if you saw someone you knew,
You’d probably not know them.

Most eye contact has ceased,
And hardly anyone seems to have combed their hair.

I touch as few surfaces as possible.

When I exit, I hold up only the two fingers I’ll be sanitizing.

“Peace,”
My hand seems to say to the world.

April 13, 2020