i have a cold

Disclaimer: I'm not that ill at all. But I wrote the following so that I could spare my friends from having to hear me whinge.


I have a heavy head, which
aches with the weight of my eyelids.
I hate my cold.
I shuffle to the door, peer outside,
and offer it a walk.
It declines.

I venture an experimental cough,
wondering if it's got to my chest,
timber creaking,
bending my lungs and my ribcage.
Calculating aspirin doses,
mineral water.

I remember when having a cold
conferred luxury, back home.
Swaddled, indulged,
my discomfort traded for blackcurrant juice
and videos.

So I offer to wrap my cold up warm, console it.
It glances ruefully at cracks in the window sill.
Then I call it names.
Alone in my flat, swearing.

It lets me get a bit of sleep in the afternoon.
But I wake up dry mouthed, bruised,
sorry for myself.

Then, pretending I'm friends with it,
I take my cold to a pub, buy a beer
and try to leave it at the bar,
tip-toeing away on peanut shells.

I concentrate.
I click my neck.
I close my eyes.
I wait for it to pass.