Remember COVID
It’s six years later, and I’m still loopy, not Lupe
Two anesthesiologists visited my bedside
One was short and the other tall.
The first was a hungry comedian looking for a free lunch
The second was the real guy, triple-worked and tired
Then the good surgeon who smiles a lot, stopped by and said hello.
And I said that I was ready. Thinking, am I stuck inside a burlesque show.
And now they’ve come and taken my hip
No, it wasn’t dripping or flipping out
It was freaking creaking and seeking some attention.
Did I mention that I was very attached to that joint?
It held all the secrets to all those dance moves
I’ve developed all these 69 YEARS!
Hell yeah, I’m flipping you a joint
That is still attached to my thumb.
Thank the good lord, I still have that major communicator.
And why did I tell them that I was five one?
I could be five two right now.
It’s a plot I tell you.
But I can still move
That surgeon knew his shit.
Now if I could take a shit
And make sense, I would be a happy senior.
Okay, it’s ok
And that joint was making me cranky
Now I can breeze in like Scarlet
Make a dramatic appearance
And even bend my knee
Without it speaking to me.
Only now I can’t drive
Which is making me sigh.
More to come…
1/25/26
Corney Press 