I thought I woke up this morning/But it was afternoon instead.

Oh, I thought I woke up this morning/But the Sun was way up overhead.

Baby, please come to my rescue, and let’s make better use of this bed.

.

Tied a string around my finger/But I can’t remember why.

Tied a string around my finger/But my brain’s a cloudless sky.

Maybe it means I should tie one on. My sense of humor can be quite rye.

.

They say my brain is shrinking/But it somehow won a prize.

Such tiny thoughts I’m thinking/Want a burg and curly fries.

The MRI says ATROPHY and I can’t wait to put it on my shelf. Now for that burg!

.

Notes:

Charlie Gordon was the main character in the Hugo-award-winning short story Flowers for Algernon. He was a mentally challenged man who through brain surgery became super-intelligent, but only temporarily. He recorded his mental rise and decline in the form of “progress reports” and so his decline is especially heartbreaking as his sentence structure loses complexity and his spelling becomes erratic.

A not-so-fun fact is that my own brain has shrunk over that last five years, and the docs say it’s a more significant shrinkage than is deemed normal for someone my age. They say that it’s diffuse, though, and should not be affecting my verbal skills. I consider my writings of late to be my “progress reports.” I’ve stepped up my production–have you noticed? 🙂

Grateful acknowledgment to Bob Dylan for writing “Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues.” Here’s a taste of his lively lyrics:

Sweet Melinda, the peasants call her the goddess of gloom
She speaks good English, invites you up into her room
And you’re so kind and careful not to go to her too soon
And she takes your voice and leaves you howling at the moon