Wet Work of an Era and a Cure for Swimmer's Ear

It's been a long travail
with this yearly lung infection
and the color that I cough
is not the color that I sneeze.
Sunday's gin and Monday's menthols
didn't help the cure, but what is life
without some living? Only bores
avoid the vice.

I've been eating lots of oranges
and maintaining fluid intake.
Chicken soup, garlic, and the word
will fix the rest.

But in the middle of my mucus
there's a small dab of salvation.
I'd been tossing snotty tissues
across the ballfield of my room
missing the can every time like a lush.
It dawned on me, the fourth day in
to move the basket to the bedside
since no one claims that half
of the floorboards anymore.

See, you doubting Tommies:
I told you there was room.
When the organist starts sweating
it's not always a bad sign.