She comes to me in a cry

There’s yellow in her hair

Her right cheek hurts

There’s a shiner under each eye

Her nose drips

Her voice is hoarse

She barely squeaks out her discourse

She comes every spring and fall

Is it the tobacco or alcohol

She wheezes

She sneezes

Nasal passages are swollen

Within 10 minutes I give her a hug and a prescription

Along with a breathing treatment

In two fields she matches textbook description

She needs to make a change, we’re both in agreement

Back in my office I see out the window

He pulls up in his convertible

She walks the other way but is clearly uncomfortable

He whistles and pleads, tells her, “I’m sorry, come with me,”

His fancy car is covered in pollen

She stalls but gets in

For the millionth time

He hands her a drink

She lights a cigarette

On the curb she leaves her medicine and her mind

Pollen falls from the trees

I’ll see her again, I bet