Corona has unsettled our household.

You suck up coffee too hot to sip,
mimic baby sounds
with each drink from a water bottle,
munch on potato chips.
While I’m in the basement relaxing,
you clomp from room to room
above my head.

I crunch crusty bread,
gulp when I swallow,
chomp on nuts,
hoover pistachios from their shells
with a smacking sound.
My constant throat-clearing leads
to suggestions of hydration.

You snore at night.
I grind my teeth and wake you.
The floor creaks
Doors that need WD-40
squeak open and closed.

I hear my own slippered feet shuffle
shuffle shuffle
like an old person.

And when you’re sitting on the porch
and I hear no sound at all,
I come looking.