The prize this time: a nip of gin.

I know the spoon count now by heart.

And knives were there right from the start.

Yes, counting silverware is in my guide

on stupid things to do while stuck inside.

Another thing is taking matched-up socks,

and dump them all together in a box.

Then tie one to another one that isn’t its same color.

You thought counting cutlery was slow, but this is duller.

A zen-like exercise is match your breathing to your cats.

But then they go chase shadows. Slow it down, you dirty rats!

I gather all the cobwebs thinking I can make a scarf.

But sometimes all the dead bugs inside make me want to barf.

I scrub the tiles with tooth brushes and paint things on my teeth.

I pick up every seat cushion and collect what’s beneath.

I run in tiny circles. I call this the white tornado.

I use push pins and paper clips to make mister potato.

I look for Jesus faces in the cabinet doors and floor.

I’ve thrown some deep hail Mary’s but they’re not caught any more.

The last chapter of my guide

gives you the tells on if you’ve died.

If you’ve not eaten in a week or more.

If your body lies, unmoving, on the kitchen floor.

If a paper held beneath your nose does not show breath,

odds are you can read my epilogue, called come, meet death.