Lou Beach
- How We Are
- May 6, 2020
- 1 min read
Updated: May 11, 2020
“Those your house shoes, right?”
“Yeah.”
“You left the others outside the front door?”
“Of course. It’s starting to look like a mosque out there.”
“They have the right idea. You don’t wan’t to bring any virus shmutz into the house.”
“I don’t think that’s why they do it.”
“Whatever. Did you wash your hands?”
“Not yet. I’m…”
“Are you fucking kidding me?! You touched the doorknob. And brushed against the chair!”
“Relax already. I’m on my way to the bathroom right now. My hands have never been so damn clean.”
“Disinfect the doorknob first!”
“Jeez. Where are the wipes?”
“Where did you leave them?”
“Me? You used them this morning on the eggs, remember?”
“Okay, okay. I’m getting forgetful. I’m losing my MIND! Clean this, wear a mask, wash your hands, watch TV all the time, don’t go anywhere, memes . . . I AM LOSING IT!!”
©Lou Beach 2020
“MOM! Mom! It’s alright. We’re here together and I’ll wipe surfaces and make sure you’re safe and everything, okay? Please, Mom.”
“Yes, alright. Alright. Sorry. You’re a good . . . your father . . .
“I know.”
“How ‘bout some eggs?”
“French toast?”
“What, we’re celebrating something?”
My mother used wipes to open door handles since before and always. This collage feels like the inside of my head. I wish I could organize it better. I wish the germs would settle down.