This Itch

Unwelcome, inopportune and insidious
it launches attack, immediately demanding attention.
Not the variety borne by a healing wound,
Not the tangent of an insect bite or sting,
Not caused by a allergic reaction to a shot,
Nor poison Ivy,
Nor nervous tension,
Or even coarse fabric,
It’s totally random and inexplicable,
precipitant-

This itch

Always demanding attention
at an inconvenient time and place,
comfortable in bed on cold winters’ night,
driving through a torrential rain,
riding a roller coaster,
speaking before a large audience, 
carrying both arms full of groceries,
during the culmination of  intimate pairing,
or even hands full of grunge and grease,
but always and ever an insistent aggravation-

This itch

Vexing and tormenting
from an unreachable zone
under an armpit,
the upper center back,
the bottom of the heel,
in the crotch,
behind an eye,
between toes,
inside a nostril,
even fleeting transitory locations-

This itch

At first there is the thought,
“It’ll go away,”
resulting in stoic endurance.
But, it doesn’t ; testing resolve,
commanding full attention,
and diverting any effort
to think about anything else;
vexing, annoying, interrupting,
with an ever-growing demand to action
It does NOT just “go away-”

This itch

So , first, comes the doomed-to-failure hand attempt,
stretch, reposition, contortion- all no damn good.
Then, rubbing against a hard object,
fidgeting in the car seat, rubbing on a door sill,
a tree trunk, the chair back, a wall.
Getting out of warm bed to attempt a reach,
trying to be nonchalant in front of an audience,
availing use of a shoe, a kids toy, spatula, yardstick,  or an umbrella...
or even that bamboo back scratcher you saved from a vacation tropical drink.
Oh, this torment, it’s getting unbearably worse-

This itch

Finally, Finally,
in desperation, the spot is reached and comes earnest “s-c-r-a-t-c-h.”
Oh Joy, oh Heaven, oh glorious splendid relief.
There is revel in ingenuity, smugness at victory.
Thoughts can finally turn elsewhere
The battle is won.  Victory !
The mind goes on reset
the body repositions in sweet bliss.
Until...
Oh God, Jesus, Mary , NO,- it has struck again !-

This Hell -sent itch !

-jerry wendt 2018