The kids are riding their bikes in circles around my desk in the garage.

It feels like I’m surrounded by a tiny biker gang.

They’re taking no prisoners.
Taking all snacks.
Skipping school.
Smoking probably.
Definitely smoking.
One holds an umbrella in the air like a sawed-off shotgun,
the other rides with a gang leader’s silent defiance.
Can’t tell THEM what to do.
And I don’t.
I just drink and write and wait for the world to continue ending.

Self-Isolation – Day 15: Daft Punk may end up saving us all.

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