While digging through some things, I found this poem I wrote for my friend Chris. It was written after I had gone to visit him while he had a cold. Once returning to Austin, I fell ill - and the rest rhymes.
Well you see, I was well and you were not.
And then my face began to rot.
And my throat got, oh, so sore.
School became worse than the usual bore.
And my nose started running,
and I looked anything but stunning.
And you were sick first,
so you must have dispersed
this cold I have now caught.
I can’t even manage a straight thought.
As you can see it’s all your fault.
I’ve lost the game of health by default.
I hope you feel bad.
You’ve made me quite sad.
(And I made that up right on the spot.)