I thought the influenza was open
to taking a sabbatical to study Medieval French Literature,
but it wanted to continue business as usual.

It sat at the table and filed its nails, while I prepared lunch.

The influenza consulted the dictionary
for an accurate definition of Tragic.

It moved some ominous clouds into the sky.

It left travel brochures on the dining room table
when it got up after eating a corned beef sandwich and chips.

The influenza went to the industrial portion of the Ruhr
and dedicated itself to reshaping its external structure
so it would not be identified as last year’s model.

It spent time at the olympic stadium outside Athens,
practiced long jump and triple jump
in the hopes it could better hop species
and jumpstart the sixth great extinction.

I sat very still in my chair after it departed,
conflicted on whether my daily calorie count
allowed me to finish the chips it left on its plate.

copyright © 2019 Kenneth P. Gurney