Wednesday, April 6, 2016

Sick Day




Congested like an LA freeway, so here at home me stayed.

Tried to call in sick, but couldn't find my phone,
I felt alienated like E.T. not able to phone home

Perhaps like a dog, searchin’  for its bone.
More like a symphony missing a trombone.
Like a rock unable to skip to a pond’s tone.

Fighting through sickness
Nose screaming, pick-this
Kleenex missed-it, so you picked-it.

Head compression,
Like trying to squeeze in a shrink session in the Great Depression.
Courage is not wrestlin’, layin’ on the mat, nice and flat. Couch with no clout,
Doesn’t even have the respect to let you lay about.

So there you go on the floor, trash everywhere, like the Gulf coast’s shore.

Sippin’ tea, trying to dispel mucous, no one understands your mucous jargon,
You takin’ mucinex, looking for a plea bargain.

Accept the watery eyes and sweat pant thighs
And the mucous lows and highs. Under the covers with the moans and sighs.
No sex for you, you’re sick and look quite blue.  A cough drop you should chew.

Scratchy throat, like someone trying to play a raspy note.
Instrument neglected for a smoky toke, so you continue lay and mope.
You dreamin’ of the O K corral and slangin’ Okie Doke.
Broke keys, a broken piano wrote. Sick and unable to key a note.

-DeBarros

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