It seems sometimes that my immune system is about as effective as a lace parasol in a hailstorm.  I’m always catching something or other.  Right now, it’s a sinus infection.  Anyhow, I don’t write poetry, and I wouldn’t really know how to do it if I wanted to try.  I have a particular distaste for free-form “pretentiery.”  But nonetheless this happened, under the influence of the best that over-the-counter cold medication has to offer, so — with my tongue planted firmly in my cheek — here it is:

Tonight,
I am a cocktail
of apple cider vinegar and NyQuil.
modern medicine …
homespun wisdom …
My delirious head sends a static-filled signal
to my sluggish fingers,
which type these words
unwittingly punctuated by the violence
of Mucinex
and the subtle, twingy tang of Theraflu.
I reach for a Kleenex,
and I make use of it.
An odorous bottle of mentholated Olbas oil is
wafted
back and forth,
back and forth,
lazily
below my nose,
seemingly of its own accord,
though I can see
(or at least vaguely sense)
my familiar appendages assisting
its buoyant benevolence — I can breathe,
but only for a moment.
another choking, sniffling gasp…
more home remedies …
A fog, or fuzz, descends
into my lungs, then rises like a cloud about my head,
borne on the waves of that encapsulated ocean,
an Alka-Seltzer liquid-gel.
involuntary sleep …

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