there's a pile of tissues
building a showcase on the floor.
I'm slurping a cherry cough drop
and sucking on chicken broth.
I've been lying in bed for days
watching re-runs of “Ghost Whisperer”
and talking to my cat.
my throat feels horrible; my voice is weak
like any song I'd sing would scare the fever out of me.
I told my doctor I'd die of boredom before
I'd die of pneumonia.
I can't wait to get back outside
and hear that headache-giving chaos of middle school
and the world war trauma of locker breaks.
just thinking about it makes me yawn,
and though it's only two in the afternoon,
I'm gonna take a well-deserved nap.