Questions
Images by Nan Cao
Text by Marcus Civin
These days, it seems there are mostly questions. I have them too:
Are we under a spell?
Are you OK?
Are you keeping up?
Are you more or less comfortable?
Are you painting?
Are you turning on your camera?
Are you worried about anyone in particular?
Can I call you later?
Can we ask for more of these signs?
Can we hold it outside if possible?
Can you push the camera further away so I can see it better?
Can you sign this?
Could we get that in the mail next time?
Did you hear about the budget?
Did you see her response?
Did you see the second part?
Did you think he sounded angry?
(He sounded angry to me.)
Do you have enough cleaning supplies?
Do you have the link?
Do you think they want to hear about online shows?
Do you think we can still do something?
Do you want me to drop off more for you?
He passed away, your plumber? From COVID?
How are enrollment numbers? They’re good, I think, considering?
How do I play it?
I think she can appeal the grade?
(She says her anxiety is high most days. "My home life can be difficult. I’m out of money. I’m afraid to come to campus. I also want to come to campus.")
In the future, when all of this is over, will people be kinder?
Is more plumbing stuff happening in people’s houses because we are home more?
Is she going in to work at all?
Is that watercolor?
It’s supposed to be like that, on the floor?
Maybe it’s not from COVID?
Maybe they'll say that in spite of ourselves, we went and made something mostly inaccessible, accessible?
Now, can you hear it?
So you were sweating and alone and listening to Otis Redding?
(The time it used to take to commute, how we used to take a taste, to stop by without an appointment.)
Was I paying attention before?
Was it crowded?
Was there a line out front?
Were you able to tell him about the voluntary reporting form?
What is the rest of the class doing?
What will happen to Scott, who I like, who is without a job now?
Maybe we need more signs?
What will summer be like?
When do you get the results?
(My body is changing, but maybe only because I am sitting in it so much, lying on the couch. I don’t like going out as much anymore.)
When was the last time he was on campus?
When?
Will my eyes go more crooked?
Will students have room to make big paintings again?
Will there be another one, another virus?
Will there be long-term effects on our lungs? Memory?
Will they close us down again?
Will you send me your physical address?
Marcus Civin is an artist, writer, and arts educator.