Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Cold Comfort: A Poem

The sun scorches my retinas
As I dig for my shades
In the vast depths of
My Fossil handbag.

I climb in the car
And start her up
I back out of the drive
Every motion disrupting my equilibrium

I try to take comfort
That there is no traffic
In the near future
But I stop and buy Kleenex

No amount of gale force
I can muster
will dislodge the obstacles
In my sinus cavities

I sit in my cube
I listen to a trainer
I read about HIPAA
I sniffle

Curses! This cold...
Why now? Why me?
The snot in my head
Blocks my brain from learning

Thank God they all think I'm stupid.


  1. I'm sure they don't think you are stupid! I'm betting they know that you have a cold and are making the best of it!

  2. Give them the poem and re-poll them.

  3. I think it's actually against HIPAA regulations to use HIPAA in a poetic context. The fines for this could be staggering.

  4. If it helps, I think you're a genius.

    Or, to translate for the cold-impaired:

    Ib id hebs, I dink oor a geedius.

  5. What a lovely poem. I can identify - I hate it when boogers are hung up on my nose stud and I can't blow them through.

  6. Beautiful Flannery.

    "I sit in my cube
    I listen to a trainer
    I read about HIPAA
    I sniffle"

    Might I suggest changing
    I read about HIPAA
    I sniffle


    I read about HIPAA
    I try to take my own life with my staple remover.

    Nothing in the world is worse than listening about HIPAA.

  7. Having just gotten over a wicked rotten 3-week-long cold, may I suggest you go to bed tonight with some Robitussin nighttime formula?

    I also had a bad cough with my cold, so I used the decongestant/cough suppresant/knock-me-on-my-ass-for-8-hours-please formula. Saved my life.

  8. Raven: Oh, I know they don't...they just are underestimating me at this point. Fortunately.

    Dale: I'll do that.

    BSUWG: Uh-oh...

    Deadspot: Thag you.

    GKL: Thanks and ew. I'm glad I don't have a nose ring.

    SD: Hee!

    Vikki: I've been taking generic, green-death formula NyQuil. Gotta love that giant fucking Q.

  9. Your site is very lovely.
    I love this writing.