The Riddle For 2020... Poem by RIC BASTASA

what i exhale
i inhale,
i smell my
own odor,
my nose and
mouth are
restrained
and perhaps
even my brain.

i cannot touch
you and you cannot
be near me.

each one is a
suspect
and no one is
to be
blamed for this.

everything
has changed
i cannot be
anymore
in far places.

we stay indoors,
outside it is hot
and empty.

meanwhile
the sales of
laptops
had become
like rockets
in the sky.


we see but
we cannot be touched
neither can we
ever touch them.


i cannot even
touch my own face
or shake and clap
with my hands.


every freedom i
have is taken.
and then they
say, i am safe.

what are we?
what am i?
where are we?
and why?