Nobody Knows What Day It Is by Gerald Yelle

Gerald Yelle has published in numerous online and print journals. His books include The Holyoke Diaries and Mark My Word and the New World Order (Pedestrian Press). He is a member of the Florence (MA) Poets Society and lives in Amherst.

Nobody Knows What Day It Is

They say it’s an effect of the virus. Who knew? I don’t think anyone would want to take credit. I’d want to know what Albert Schweitzer thought of it all. I bet he’d say it was making us manic. I bet he’d talk to every one of us separately. I’d close that window for the duration of the train ride. All the other farm boys would be out in the outback. So much of it is broken. The kangaroos all eaten. You can’t punish everyone for the miserable few. It’s pumped too far up for a protein shake. Nobody pays attention. What happens when you look at pictures of yourself? They pretty much scare you. The heat becomes oppressive. It was the last of the month by the time introductions were finalized. It’s funny, feeling like it’s the end of everything. Like only a lockdown would save us. And what if that lockdown fails? What if all our social-emotional training proves useless. And our sense of humor fails. What about our palpitations, dandruff, sciatica, and heartburn? What if the normal things all let go and we can’t read our own handwriting. What if we lose our taste buds?