Perfect

Perfect! (Hypochondria?) I’m not sick. I’m not ill. I’m not crazy. There is nothing wrong with being perfect. My mommy told me so. "illness anxiety disorder" It’s just a label….Just a name Like thousands of other names that I can’t say, I can’t spell Such as the thousands of lethal viruses and bacterial pathogens Out to get me. I know they want me. As they try to get inside to kill me. They cross my path without a care Don't even wipe their feet They are here! They are there! They are everywhere! So what. I don’t care. I quit my job and wife and life to deal with them And deal with them I will They won’t find me. No sir! I’ll never leave my house again I hide in disinfectant waters in day In scalding hot baths and microwave ovens at night Me and Purdy; Purdy is my sparrow in a hermetically sealed cage He would sing all day if he were alive today But he never was. He never existed As you can see he is plastic Plastic birds don’t sing but they are free Free from infections, infestations, nasty things found in nature My birdie is sterilized, sanitized, purified…. like me We wear our hypoallergenic suits and masks Which, when applied properly, qualifies us as being clean Keeps us alive for the time being