I Need My Quil



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My head feels like a bowling ball
ready to pop off and roll down the
carpeted floor


The sensual feel of molasses in the veins,
the wheeze as you exhale—
oh, so sexy

Not sure you’re hearing instructions from your boss,
“What did you say?”

Your mind operating like an old LP at 32 rpm

The DayQuil has worn off!

At the office
three more more hours to go

chills, ears ringing
the burning desire to go to bed.

I know I have no cause to complain, but
I will anyway