An Ode To The Covid Spit Tubes

Goodbye, sweet white noise, my old friend,
Your static roar, your constant sound;
I’ve replaced you, you’re at your end,
There’s a new lover I have found.

Hypnotic sound, she calls for me
Two times a week, that is her game;
Her slender frame, a sight to see,
The Covid spit tube – that’s her name!

Foldable tables, Clorox wipes,
Old pop music, taste of spit;
Just like a plumber and his pipes,
That tapping sound – I’m drawn to it.

What seems like an obnoxious noise
Is to my ears just a warm hug.
Down the funnel, I spit with poise,
My biweekly lover, my sweet drug.