The Problem Is CRS
I saw my friend the other night.
I must say he looked quite the sight.
“What is the matter with you?”
He said “I have CRS. Oh yeah, it’s true!”
“CRS? What did the Dr say?”
“He said I have CRS, earlier today.”
“Well, that’s not so bad” I said.
He said “Are you out of your head?”
“It’s CRS man, my days are numbered.”
“I guess that could be a real bummer.”
“But, it shouldn’t kill you. Not right away.”
“So, everyday I live in fear and pray?”
“You won’t remember by tomorrow.”
“Can’t you even show some sorrow?”
“Come on. I forget stuff every day.”
“It’s just a ‘senior moment’ is all I say.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“CRS. Can’t remember shit!!” I shout.
“What? That is not what CRS is.”
“Cancer Recurring Symptoms it is.”
“What? Is that what the Dr said?”
“He said I had CRS. It was in my head.”
“When I asked him what to do?”
He said ‘write it down. That’s best for you’”
“I thought he meant to make out a will.”
“My days are numbered. I’m feeling ill.”
I said “Not to worry my friend.”
“I am pretty sure this is not the end.”
“He meant you can’t remember shit.”
“So, write it down to remember it.”
“Well, shit. That is a bummer.”
“I’d rip his ass, but I forgot his number.
——————————-R.W. Johnson—–(2018)