Yesterday

A wave of mucus and snot cascades out of his nose

collecting in the soft awaiting tissue. It caresses

the nostrils, wiping up what has been left behind

and gets tossed carelessly in the garbage, infecting

all that come near with a similar fate.

He lays, not on a throne of sexual pleasures,

or even a cloud of pleasurable dreams,

but on lumpy surface where he tosses and turns.

Covers on, covers off, covers on, covers off.

How does one get off this dizzying ride?

He slurps ginger ale and crunches crackers

a promising meal for a churned stomach

while the essence of meatloaf fills his lungs

teasing his rumbling tummy. Something

hammers inside his head; he closes his eyes.

The red of the mercury is less than the day before

and he forces himself out of his tomb. His nose is

clear of snot, the hammering is silent, and the

queasy ache has disappeared, but crumpled up

tissues remain, littering the battlefield with memories

of yesterday.