C-OLD

Brain on half power, and under the influence of a homemade (and GoodWife approved!) cocktail of antihistamine, decongestant, Tylenol, cough syrup, and coffee (natch…), I don’t have much to write. Or read, for that matter. Brain not work for Volf, only for blogs (which almost no one is posting) and magazines. Fortunately, I still have mental access to David Wilcox’s poem:

COLD

You ever wonder why you get a cold?
Look at the word – spell it – C-old.
C-OLD?!

You’re pulled over by the reaper for a warning
He says,”I clocked you thinking 80″
You know you’re not that old
You’ve been worried about the darkness in the morning

Well, I’ll give you something to worry about, he says
And he flips open his ticket pad
Appreciate your breathing

I’m gonna write you up a headache for those thoughts
Now why you been so worried
What have you been reading
And why do you have to tally all you’ve lost

I’ma write you up a head cold
It comes on like bad weather
So maybe you’ll appreciate the warming

See it gives a new perspective
Soon you’ll be feeling better
I’ll let you off this time
With a warning

He says, But take it easy, alright
People live around here

You won’t see him in time
What I’m trying to say is
You’ll miss him