Being a lover all things spicy,
I get that from my Dad,
I chose this culinary staple.
Yummy it was.
Hot it was.
So, my nose started to do the drippy thing.
I seriously contemplated using
But decided against it.
All this talk about drippy noses
reminds me of a time when I
was working in the nursery.
There I was helping this precious bundle of joy,
when my nose suddenly became a raging river.
My hands were full, the task needed to be completed,
and there I was reeeaaching for a sandbag, kleenex, anything to
stop. the. DRIP.
Try as I might to sniff it back, I could not.
And it was slowly getting to the point of no return.
Calling for help would've taken too long.
Wiping my nose across my shirt would've been. gross.
But it didn't really matter anyway.
I was too late.
The deed, or rather drip, was done.
And there the glossy little droplet sat on
that sweet, innocent, bald head
like dew on a flower.
And then I died.
But I wanted to.
Still makes me cringe.