Ode to Lyme Disease

Take a long trip to the lowest

basement on enervation’s

elevator.  Flattened by

formidable fatigue,

you could have sworn the world

was round until a deer tick

punched you in the head

with his microscopic fist

and laid you out on the mat.

Look up at the stars

spinning in a mobile

of brightly aching joints.

Vitamins invite spirochetes

to pirouette in your beleaguered

brain.  Caffeine backfires,

makes you tired instead of waking

you up.  It’s hard to stay

alert with a head full of fog.

Memories elude you like phantoms

flitting through the air.

Sharks shift flashing tails

through a shaky sky

clogged with cold clouds,

hunting the sinking sun.

 

Note:  I apologize for misspelling Ogalalla in the previous entry; in fact, I may be misspelling it again.  Memory loss is another side effect of Lyme, as well as the far more universal disease of muddled middle age. 

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