The Perks of Lockdown

 
During April 2020,
I bought a thousand-dollar mattress

and a wrought iron bed frame
for two hundred bucks

from a couple who ran
an estate sale business
in Bisbee, Arizona.

The bed’s previous owner
had died right before lockdown.

Every store was closed,
and restless shopkeepers
leered from doorways.
hissing like drug dealers.
 
“Psssssst—need some furniture?”

I bought the illusion of normalcy,
a high that lasted only a few minutes.
A tag on my new mattress read,

“Made for active lifestyles”,

meaning recreation,
not fornication.
Not that I was doing
much of either.