(a postcard poem)
After itching for four days,
non-stop, I finally decide
that my misery merits a call
to the doctor on call line.
He orders me
a new, prescription strength cream.
The one I have is 8 years old, after all.
After applying,
I breathe a well-deserved
sigh of relief
and plan my grocery shopping trip.
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That Rx stuff can work wonders and save your sanity for important things like poetry!
ReplyDeletePaul Kaplan