Friday, April 29, 2011

During the time that I was off for bone repair, I used up all of my banked sick-time, and most of my PTO. After 2 weeks of work, I finally caught up with the local flu-like viral syndrome and missed a day on the job (fortunately I reduced my hours to 24 hours per week)...but that's a day without pay, however I slice it.

Skid Row

I called in, sick
Just the other day,
When a few hours before
I felt OK,
But Saturday morning
When perchance, I coughed,
My oropharynx
Was no longer soft;

No, it felt as if
Those tissues were ripped,
Where sharpened blades
Had gouged and clipped,
My tonsils
In a rage of fury,
And when I almost cried
My eyes got blurry.

There's a packet of pus
At the back of the bus,
Ripping razors, whenever I cough,
My vocals were distorted
When my voice-box aborted
Communications quite clearly, are off.

I'm no good for work
And sick-time is a perk
But in my case, that perk can't be trusted,
I used those hours in December
I quite clearly remember,
When my ankle was damaged and busted.

I'm not working, it's a freebie
I'll have to suck on a BB
Counting my negative cash flow,
I will heal pretty soon
After I main-line the moon,
While resting down here, on skid row.


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