Man Fever

a poem by sharnyk ongar, USA

He has a cold he thinks he’s dying
Up the stairs is where he’s lying

He said he struggles to take a breath
And thinks he’s on the verge of death

By his bed a mound of pills
All piled high for various ills

There’s pills for headaches snotty nose
Even gout pills for his toes

He drives me nuts he gives me flack
He’s a moaning hypochondriac

Sick of this I call his pal
Who works the bar by the canal

An end is nigh I can be sure
For his pal Al has got the cure

Talks to the sick one now quite frisky
And off they go to drink some whiskey

He’ll come home go straight to bed
In the morning a throbbing head

Then off he’ll start all over again
I can tell ya this man’s a pain

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