Quicksilver Mess, At Your Service

Once, when I was young and hot–
I was, too, once! That time I caught
The flu when I was five or six–
I whacked one of those fever sticks
Against the bedpost shaking it
To clear the reading, breaking it,
And all the mercury ran out.
The silver beads convulsed about
Atop my Snoopy bedsheets ’til
I herded them into a pill
That nestled nicely in my palm.
I loved the way it sat there, calm
As heavy-metal fruit could be–
That’s a cucumber reference, see?–
Until I poked it. Then it shattered
And the shiny liquid spattered
All across my open hand
And then, when I gave the command
(And cupped my palm), it coalesced
Once more into the biggest, best,
Most toxic toy I’d ever had!
And no, it didn’t taste that bad.
(Just kidding! Don’t forget than when you
Have the flu, there is no menu.)
Scarlet-tinted alcohol
Replaced my little Hg ball
In later years for safety’s sake,
And digitals are hard to break,
So kids today may never learn
That though their heads may pound and burn,
Some lucky, clumsy girls and boys
Find brief relief in fever toys.

RTL Hell

Reading left-to-right’s my habit.
I read rightward like a rabbit
Who can read that way, and quickly.
Right-to-left, I read less slickly.
I’ll concede one cause may be
My unfamiliarity
With alphabets (or stebahpla)
Where leftward words are written law,
But even when the characters all
Look familiar, reversal
Makes it hard to comprehend
Where sentences begin and end
Especially where punctuation
Lapses in transliteration.
I’ll keep practicing, however,
Though enlightenment may never
Be a thing I rightly claim.
I’ll be deft leftly all the same,
Unless the stress infects my eye,
In which case, Dyslexics, Untie!

Eight-Legged Race

Chapeau, as they say, to the feisty webcaster
Who lives on my porch. Every time I walk past her
I wipe out her web. Does she yield to disaster?
Mais non! She weaves more! Higher! Wider! And faster!
I truly admire her…but I’ll outlast her.