Thursday, April 22, 2010

My Nose, It Runs Like a River

Pollen, desert bloom, and other nasty things are in the air.
They fly around, looking for places to rest.
They seek a place, to grow and mature, and bring beauty to the world.
They seem to think this place is in my nasal cavities.
Why do they rest within my nostrils?
Maybe it’s the dark and damp atmosphere.
Maybe my nose hairs are just right for that allergen that’s looking to settle down.
Maybe little allergy travel agents are booking vacations there.
They promise to show the sights and sounds and thrills of one man’s sinuses.
Whatever the reasons, the result remains the same:
My nose, it runs like a river.

Who knows which way it will attack?
Sometimes the warnings are there, brazen and aggressive.
The tell-tale itching near the back of the nostril,
The staggered breathing leading up to the explosive end.
Damned if I sneeze and damned if I don’t.
Either one will open the gates.
And sometimes it comes like a thief,
Sneaking in without a sound and not giving a sign of its presence.
Only when it’s ready to rush out do you know that it’s there,
And then you realize that its singular purpose has been fulfilled:
My nose, it runs like a river.

How much slime can a human produce?
The amount is staggering.
More and more, ever increasing, it rushes forth.
Shall there be no end to its disgusting parade?
And in my darkest moment, I glance down and a horrifying sight meets my eyes:
All the Kleenex is gone.
My head snaps to the right! My head snaps to the left!
There is none to be found!
Panic begins to set in as I feel a creeping feeling start to come forth.
Clouds form within my brain
And obscure all normal thinking.
Release and relief from this urgent matter are all I can concentrate on now.
Oh, if only there was a tissue around to save me from my doom!
Oh, how I took those soft and pillowy blessings for granted!
If I only knew how valuable they were back then!
If only I had cherished them and saved them for moments like these!
If only I hadn’t wasted them on worthless things like the killing of bugs and the mopping of spills!
With no other options, I turn to the only tool left to my disposal.
And so my arm becomes one more casualty of the curse of this season.
And I curse my nose, for it runs like a river.

Many share in my suffering.
Spring brings flowers and warmth and cheer
And sneezing and itching eyes and misery all wrapped up in a big bundle
The people cry out for salvation!
They seek relief from allergists and specialists and the Nasonex bee.
Yet even the soothing voice of an anthropomorphic Latin lover
Cannot bring comfort when in the throes of a fit of sneezing.
Every year the dance resumes, and all the dancers take up their posts.
And every year it carries on along to the same tune
And every year their voices rise up to ask for an end to their woes!
They seek mercy from gods and solace from science!
They curse the earth and curse the animals and curse the fragrances that their co-workers emit!
And every year there is one constant that we can all hold to be true:
My nose, it will run like a river.