fresh out of time.

sunday morning,
and it's anything but easy.
i'm tellin' you duders-
my immune system is apparently mislabeled.
because i am NOT immune to the nutmeg plague.
that's a thing, neighbors.
and it is no fine and dandy matter.
at all.
i have come to the conclusion that
connecticut has it in for me.
i was there for only the briefest of moments,
and somehow procured a doomsday virus for my face.
i'm serious.
tons of folks in the woodsly north have some kind of trailer-cough,
or hick-foot.
or woodbooger-lung,
or whatever other 'nother up-here ailments they catch....
but for us former city folk,
those redneck germs from up here are too backwoods and backwards
to infect our vegan-healing, white blood cell system-superpowers,
but,
the kryptonite of connecticut's strength-sapping suck-sauce
has accomplished what the blackest of white mountain forests could not,
and aggressively infiltrated my lymph nodes an' that.
like assassins and spies,
these virulent infectious defectors and dissidents
sowed civil unrest in my antibody collective.
agent provocateurs, all up in my busy body business.
and now i've got that 'itis, ninjas.
head all swollen solid,
ears all plugged and deaf-defied,
nostrils all clogged/unclogged in unpedictable intervals.
it's pretty cool,
or it would be,
if it was happening to someone else.
of course,
that's not how it ever goes, now, is it?
nope.
if it weren't for hard healthy homeopathic herbs,
i'd probably just drip-dry until empty.
but that's weak sauce,
and we don't put that on our partcipatory pasta, right?
riiight.
i've got a north african uprising in my brain bucket,
and the protestors aren't looking like they'll be leaving town square
anytime soon.
sorry, winter vacation,
but it's snots and spreading of the connecticut snotulism
all flippin' day.
indy 500?
what?
i'll be doing laps to the bathroom and back.
pole position on the buttery, blarpity, booger express.
yesterday we made regular people look like zombies,
today,
it's me who looks undead,
and that's without the use of latex and make-up.
*
airborne contagions,
all patient zero-type hot fiery feverskin tattoo time.
you'd better have eaten your eagle's eggs, kids.
you'll need molto nutrients to battle back against
this dastardly doo-doo butter.
i'm sayin',
it's happening,
and it's happening hard;
never quiet, never soft.....