Seasonal Allergy Cycle

Climbing off the bike
If I’m not alight with hives
Then I dreamed the ride

Advertisements

Inflamagination

It’s possible these hives are not:
There is no round, pink, bulbous spot
Emerging from the freckled plane
Of my forearm, and I’m insane,
Imagining these dermal blights
Embrailling elbow pits at heights
That drive the bites of fleas or ants
To writhe an I’m not worthy dance.
It’s possible, but still they itch.
Spring allergies are such a bitch.

Strategic Retreat

I didn’t beat the lawn today.
I dropped my gloves and walked away
Before the final weed was mown,
Thus harvesting the seeds I’d sown
By choosing allergy avoidance
Over overgrown annoyance.
I do not concede defeat.
In Vegetation vs. Meat
The altercations never stop.
I’m bowed, but will come out on top.

Meowdown

I have a pack of cats at home;
I wish I hadn’t got ’em.
Their dander hair is everywhere,
I’m hives from top to bottom.
I always keep my promise, though,
So what else could I do?
I said, If Donald Trump’s elected
I’ll start grabbing pussies, too!

Yardwork

I’ll stand up to stray raccoons
I’ll play your favorite song on spoons
I’ll carve you valentines in runes
But I won’t mow the lawn

The pollen makes my eyelids swell
My alveoli start to gel
I gain a painful sense of smell
Until the hives have gone

The neighbors say their eyes are sore
Complain our curb appeal is poor
But I don’t listen anymore
Because my ears are stuffy

All right, you win, I’ll cut the grass
Then spend the weekend on my ass
Until the histadizzies pass
I hope you like me puffy