Lockdown Neighbourhood Watch.

He’s cutting the grass again.

It can’t have grown much since yesterday.

Incessant whir of the lawnmower.

My neighbour’s Lockdown OCD.

Another fucking barbeque.

Time to close the windows.

Goodbye, Fresh Air,

I will try again tomorrow.

Gaming teen screaming obscenities

Through paper-thin walls,

As I try to relax

In these “unprecedented times.”

The five thousand grandkids

Arrive to visit their Nan.

The rules don’t apply to them.

What Lockdown?

Someone has a supermarket delivery.

I see the van, and I want to cry.

How did they get that slot?

The bastards.

Every little domestic gripe,

I hear,

Simply because,

I am here.

If this ever happens again,

I’m blasting out Green Day.

Throughout.

Fuck it.