Hiking at Pennypack Trust / Poem: Bactrim Mania

Scott and I hike every weekend. My sister Donna joined us, adding a bit of raucous hysterical fun.

Oh amber waves of grain.

Gazillions of these furry black and orange caterpillars were underfoot. Just spoke to Dr David Robertson, head of the Trust,



who said they are Wooly Bears, who grow up to become the
Isabella Tiger Moth. Lovely silk gown, right Gracie?

Donna liked this lawn chair stuck on the tree.

Part of the hurricane Sandy damage. David R said he was very upset by all the huge old trees that had fallen.

Yes, it's like a grand old person come tumbling down.

Milkweed, or what remains of this very valuable plant.

Carl Linnaeus named the genus after Asclepius, the Greek god of healing, because of the many folk-medicinal uses for the milkweed plants. It's the prime food of monarchs before they fly south.

What the heck?

Betty Crocker in the kitchen.

Here's a delicious bean dish I made with kidney beans and chick peas. I took it over to Donna's where she added the final touches....half cup of Israeli spices including cous-cous, orzo, and red quinoa and seasoning including TURMERIC, which gives it the golden color.

The doctor prescribed Bactrim for my UTI. Per my recent post, the moment I took it I began having hallucinations. I wanted to honor this extraordinary experience with a poem.


BACTRIM MANIA

You’ve probably never heard of me
unless you have AIDS or
a tricky little UTI that oozes in
like an adder.

Killing is my calling card.
With gusto, I spread a wide net that has
winged the four-lobed liver,
killed the innocent,
made feet itch unstoppable
and brought a turn of psychedelia to an aging hippie who
has given up her pipe.

The delight I took in playing with her brain!
She saw swirls of color at bedtime
Her shower curtain became a twirling Picasso
a throbbing  Jackson Pollock followed her into bed
where she slept with Cy Twombly on the shores of Ilium.

“I am not myself!” I heard her cry.
“I cannot think. I cannot speak. For the world is too
beautiful.”

Like Dorothy banishing the wicked witch
she tossed me aside
I lost my grip,
fell helplessly through her waterfalls
and heard her whoop and sing when she
flushed me through the long stinking
corridors of sewer pipes of enemies.