thursday

By Ivonne Arias

behold an ode
to the common cold,
the bane of all’s existence!

filled with phlegm
you say, ‘never again,
i’ll learn to keep my distance.’

it starts with a cough
you brush it off,
a tired change of season

little do you know
within you grows
a pathogenic treason.

soon enough,
your nose’s stuffed.
every hour is an ordeal.

achey heads
chilly beds,
heal, damn you! heal!

throat’s all scratched
like a zillion cats
had themselves a field day.

you’ll grow annoyed,
but you can’t avoid
lest you live the tightly-sealed way

but it’s not such a fuss.
it excuses us
of all that we don’t wanna.

a reason to be lazy,
let work get hazy.
school today?

bah!
 
 

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