I used to crave isolation,
especially in the coldest winter months. I’d Pin
cabins with roaring fires, hand-sewn quilts,
a picture window full of snow, and dream about being stuck.
Away from the noise.
But the pandemic has brought an unbearable hunger for touch,
for the sound of living.
I’ve started rewatching old comfort shows to satiate myself;
Jersey Shore leaves me feeling full.
I imagine the smells of brine and taffy on the boardwalk,
the sounds of the ferris wheel and tilt-a-whirl merging
into one bright, chaotic jangle. The press and flow of bodies
radiating coconut oil-heat,
too much beer,
too much need.
I envision living in that house with the roommates,
expertly flipping 4 a.m.-grilled cheeses and
arguing over whose turn it is to do the dishes.
I go to sleep picturing Sunday dinner and feel
my stomach contract once,
Amanda Crum can be followed on Twitter @MandyGCrum.