So
everything
you
need
is
in a shipping container
on
top of a stack
of
shipping containers
in
a shipping yard
somewhere
in
the West.
You’ve
been doing without
the
rug, the tents, the books,
the
pens and cans and door beads,
the
desks and chairs and lamps,
the
punching bag, the ethical coffee,
forgotten
clothing, toothpaste,
hand
sanitisers and old New Yorkers
for
two and a half months now
and
you feel some fear
about
everything
you
need
arriving
at
your door
and
having to be
put
somewhere.
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