GENRE: Funny, Life
Until I Sneeze
By Kirby Timmons
We’ve all got our rituals to jumpstart our lives;
To get our buzz on ‘ere we exit our hives;
Some will not speak till they know what they’ll wear;
Others will hide till they blowdry their hair.
For some it’s coffee, or a shower or a joke
For others a kiss, or a drink or a toke.
Some aren’t conversant till they read the front page;
Others check Facebook for advice that is sage.
Depending on last night if you went on a bender,
And which margarita mix you poured in the blender,
Your morning may be a bear, or as nice as you please,
But I’m not really there till I’ve had my first sneeze.
We all have our pecadillos as Johnny Carson once said,
But sneezing is “de riguer” ‘ere I get out of bed.
There’s a full day ahead of me, like it or not,
But I’m not going out till I’ve blown out some snot.
An odd thing, I know, this needing to sneeze:
Maybe its allergies, or some rare disease,
I’ve fought it, and stifled, and squeezed at my nose,
But that just postpones the requisite blow.
One day my routine went completely awry,
With no sneeze forthcoming, in a sad state was I.
I tried to curry favor with the obstinate thing,
Snorting pepper, even curry, the reflex to bring.
I humbly attempted to push through my day,
But bad luck and mishap all aiming my way —
Credit cards declined; traffic signals all red;
Exhausted, defeated, I returned to my bed.
When suddenly a tickle up from my keister,
I coaxed and coddled, and finally unleashed her:
A SNEEZE, reverberating throughout the bed!
And a feeling of calm swooned all through my head.
And suddenly, I felt I was ripe for the day,
For whatever and whoever might come my way.
A king, or a house of publisher’s clearing,
I’d tackle them all, all lambs for the shearing.
Jubilant, confident, and not a bit hostile,
And all due this explosion released from my nostril!
Twas then I accepted: no day could work out,
Should no “proboscis unblockus” at first come about.
So, a bird’s got his wings, and an elephant his trunk,
And flipper’s got his fins without which he’s sunk.
Each in their realm’s got their “sina qua non”,
And each must find what helps them move on.
The flowers have their blooms, and the bees have their knees,
but I will not flourish in days such as these,
Until I roar back, and unleash a good healthy sneeze.
* * * * *
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