There once was a sneezer named Rose
Who'd sneeze to the tips of her toes.
    She once sneezed so heinous
    She puked out her ****
And blew out her brains through her nose.

With an autumn breeze
Wafts of leaves swish and swing
From trees to debris as fall brings in the insatiable cold comes the running nose just
As we drip the facet or hose to keep the pipes from froze. I send my head into the sky as something somehow shuts my eyes and I season the air with allergens spewing the unseen into the light making the invisible visible.

The garden cats aren’t mine
with my pss-pss-pss
and shuffle finger
I try to entice them
but mainly, warily
they ignore in the truest
feline tradition
to leave me and my allergies
wishing

the first days of spring are upon us
and the rebirth is apparent in things all around us
from the leaves slowly growing back
to the grass, in need of mowing from growing fast
squirrels nibbling on juniper berries
the scent in air, sappy tar carried
with pollen intermixed
your allergies amiss
though still fortunate for the spring

her eyes are crochet pillows upon a peach couch
that is subsequently her face
red and puffy and not very comfortable

there are only two blues;
her irises
and the gloom that she feels every day

are you ok?
what happened?
people ask as they pass her on the street

nothing
she says
im allergic to something
she adds

what?
they ask

she do not know

though she has the inkling of an idea
that she is in fact
allergic to unwanted attention