good stuff, poet

and you too, poet.
thank you for posting
in your eye, poet
in your park, poet

your handkerchief is slimed
with pus and snot but

what is that crack in your skin?
it lets the sun in; it burns you
into cigarette holes.

disease rules
as in times of yore
when a sneeze
spelled doom and a kind word
meant a truce and nothing more.