is a semi-retired and fully burnt-out information management consultant who spends the cold months in the Washington, D.C. suburbs and summers and falls at his farm in rural Maine. In addition to Umbrella
, recent works have appeared in The Panhandler
, the American Organist
and The Shit Creek Review
—Back to Bumbershoot Contents—
It strikes me that my sofa might
be hiding sly dermatophytes—
those frightful fungal bugs that bite
and turn our runny noses bright.
I’ll buy some Flonase for a start.
Click! Zoloft for the funk I’m in;
the kids are out of Ritalin;
and Darling needs more Premarin.
In case her bones are growing thin,
I’ll add Evista to my cart.
For pain, I like my Vicodins;
for short siestas, Ambiens;
for deeper sleep, Lunesta wins;
for sinuses, some Claritins;
and beta blockers for mum’s heart.
In case we catch a strain that’s new,
I’ll buy my family Tamiflu
to kill the cruds that could accrue
from chickens grown in Timbuktu.
O, how I love this online mart!
We tried Viagra once before,
and though it raised my semaphore,
it took four hours to restore
the main mast on my man-of-war.
This week Levitra’s on my chart.
A crusty crotch needs Vagisil,
and toenail rot means Lamisil . . .
My partners in Nigeria will
deposit funds to pay the bill.
I’m trusting them to do their part.