I woke up to a coughing fit at twenty minutes past three this morning.
Then again at ten to five.
When I opened my eyes again it was eighteen past seven
And my joints felt like I'd been in a triathlon the day before.
Eyes billowy and throat sore from a week's flu threat,
I coaxed my stiff limbs into the shower-
With reminders of the long weekend, today's chi-chi luncheon, and adult apprehension.
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As I sat facing the beach
Staring out as far as my myopic eyes would go
The others talked about Tom Ford's virgin Rive Gauche collection.
The water was a pristine teal, littered with high school kids on holidays.
I wished then that I could be rid of my pinching shoes and black-clad company;
Walk the token few metres and lie undisturbed on the sand.
Midway through lunch the northerly winds came
And swept through napkins, roquette, and an antique-gold skirt.
In a matter of three minutes
The clouds moved in
And so did we.
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I feel like staying in bed until I remember to smile again.
Spawned from restless inertia
The recent flatline has taken possession.
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I don't know how much 10ml is -
About 2 full tablespoons perhaps?
The cough syrup is working well with the day's Pinot Noir and g&t intake.
xxxNitexxx