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Poem for Tina

Oh, Phlegm, how noble art thou, sir
When in morn’ you make me stir.
You fuel my hack and fill my cough.
I spit you up into the trough.

A righteous buttery surprise
Phlegm, oh, Phlegm, you fill my eyes.
You coat my lungs and paint my throat.
I sing as sweetly as a goat.

What mysteries lie in your depths -
The smoke from friends and hair from pets
The mites of dust and nicotine
And hair from cats (one named Sabine)
Full engorged phagocytes
That had a meal of parasites
And inside all that nasal rot
Are dustmites and some dried up snot
And blood from vessels in my nose
Back out my mouth your banquet goes.

Mostly soft, yet semi hard
Consistency of luke-warm lard
Yellow olive and chartreuse
Ivory-umber, gristle puce
The favorites of the Slug-God spectrum.
So glad you don’t come out my rectum.