'Love In The Time of Corona'

‘Inevitable really: the scent of bitter almonds always reminded him of the fate of unrequited love’. 
And I think of this
As I rummage at the back of the baking cupboard
(Searching for something
Anything
Vaguely 
Alcoholic, 
Even though I know full well that I drank the last cooking brandy several days ago)
And start to contemplate the fermenting potential of marzipan…

And whether Matt from upstairs might concede to a quick fuck.

Amazing how big the fish look when the pond shrinks.
But after all, isn’t it the Gospel of Matthew that says ‘Love thy neighbour’?

PornHub keeps crashing.

The internet sluggish and numb,
Cables raw from overuse
Strung thinly between a population 
Climbing up the walls.

Time moves slowly behind closed doors.
And I haven’t had so much as a handshake all month.
Let alone a shag.

Vibrator on statutory sick-leave- shops long sold out of triple-As,
I’ve tried giving my ex a Skype-job.
Tried Zoom-ilingus.
Insta-wank.
Sit-on-my-Facetime.

And I’ve strolled the graveyards of Tinder 
Trying to strike matches to 
Light banter 
With anyone who lives remotely near N8.

‘You got any limes? I got a whole case of Corona we can share…’
Joe from Wood Green immediately goes off-line.

Christ, I really am scraping the barrel of 
Laughs 
I had saved
For a rainy day.

I’m just passing time.
But I still sigh
When Jim from Seven Sisters baulks at me being a whole stop away on the Victoria Line.
‘Could get a taxi…?’
‘Not really worth the risk though is it…? Smiley face’.
Fine.
Suit yourself Jim.
Prick.

I scan the book shelf… 
Kraus’s ‘I love Dick’
Great. 
Agh, go on then.
I’ve read them all once through already; may as well start again.

I count the hours in hand washes:
‘God save the Queen’ 
10, 20, 100 times,
And I hope He does, Jeez, 
I mean she’ll need it, poor bird, she’s no Spring -

Outside flowers bloom without permission from the state;
Fruit swells; bees pollinate;
You can’t quarantine the seasons.

But I wish we could – 
I long for lazy park days:
Flat beer, soft grass, warm grapes,
Hot, sweat-studded skin, rolling past each other like…

I lean against the doorframe. 
Imagine the sturdy wood the bones of another person.
You were alive once weren’t you?
Push back. 
Come on,
Fucksake.

I wonder how long it takes before we forget how to feel.
Can humans rust…?

You know you can fud-off against pretty much anything if you try hard enough.
Novelty wears off a bit, though.
No one really wants to feel post-coital regret about their chest of drawers

I slide to the floor.
Eye up the aubergine I’ve saved for a Friday treat. 
Tease.
Apparently some woman in Shepherd’s Bush got hospitalised last week.
Butternut squash.
Not really worth it is it?

Anyway, 
Don’t know where it’s been.
I’m gonna dice and deep-fry the fucker.

Wash hands first though: ‘God save our…’

But there’s movement behind the glass…
‘Hello?!’
‘Hi!’
Matt from flat 5.
No…
‘Gimme one sec!’
I tug my hair into place
Pull a jumper on.
Bit of lipstick?
Why not.
Mascara?
Too much
Never mind.

I make eyes
Through the letter-box
He bends

‘Hi!’

We’re Pyramus and Thisbee
Romeo and –

‘Is it OK for me to open the –‘
‘Sure’.

He stands, smiling.
Cheeks a-quiver.
I know that look:
He wants it.

‘I’m Matt from –‘
‘Hey, yeah… ’.

Palm to palm is holy palmers’ -

‘Oops, better not’.
‘Course’

Then let lips do what hands do…
But he goes for the foot tap.
Alright, playing hard to get.
He half stumbles
He’s nervous.
It’s cute.

‘Can’t believe we’ve never really met’.
‘No, so awful we don’t know our own neighbours’.

He grins.
I try to look nonchalant. 
Oh trespass sweetly urged!

‘Well…what can I do for you?’

He goldfishes:
‘Well I was just wondering actually’
Ay…
‘Sorry I know this is a bit forward, er’ 
Good pilgrim…
‘But you haven’t got any spare loo-roll have you?!’

Oh.

‘It’s just I’ve run low - bit scared of going out.’

Nod, stutter, nod…
‘My God, yes of course! Gimme a sec!’
I tuck my boner between my legs and go fetch.
‘Here -’
Careful not to touch.
‘Please let me know if you need anything else – or want me to pick up any supplies or anything?’
‘You angel, thanks – really appreciate it’.

Smile.
Foot tap.
Door latch.
Sigh.

Mm.
Probably for the best really.

He is 93.

I look at the aubergine.
And go and wash my hands.