Ode to a summer cold

Oh, how I hate thee, summer cold.
Let me count the ways:
your sapping of energy during
prime sunlight hours,
your muddling of my mind
and my speech,
your detritus of tissue and
tangled sheets from all-day sleep,
your headache that makes even
watching bad tv shows painful,
your slow driving reflexes,
your congested mis-hearing,
your phlegm and loss of appetite.

Summer cold, why have you
followed me home from work?
Why couldn't you have gone
to the Cubs game with your first victim?
Why couldn't she keep you to herself?
Why do you tease me with
improved symptoms only after
the cold medicine wears off?
Summer cold, I'm getting on a
cross-Atlantic airplane in three days.
Would you depart before then, please?
I'd hate to see you mature into
a sinus infection.
Summer cold, I beg you,
take your leave of me.