It might be too good to be true, but the CDC and Joe Biden say we no longer have to wear masks if we are fully vaccinated. Funny that this happened on a day that I expressed my extreme frustration in a a poem.
Enough It meets the mandate, this thing across my face. The stale air inside makes me more anxious than I already am. A big box of disposables, purchased at the grocery store with wipes and hand sanitizer. Yes, I know they saved lives. The bottom half of my face wasn’t designed to act as a billboard, telegraph my taste or conscience, express my hobbies and pastimes, or act like an accessory to my ensemble. At first they were fun for hiding. Now, I loathe them. I’m sick of smizing and trying to communicate mood through my eyebrows. I hate that I can’t see your whole face. I hate guessing if you’re smiling at me or curling one side of your mouth up in disapproval. I want to burn them all. Make a bonfire and toss them in one by one.
