The Gurgle In My Throat
a.k.a. An Ode to Mixed Up People with PD Like Myself!
By Sherri Woodbridge
Copyright 2008
Use with permission only
There’s a Gurgle in my throat,
I can feel him there inside
He has no shoes, no socks or name
He tries but he can’t hide
He swings from my tonsils to my larynx,
Does somersaults on my tongue
Rolls around, Jumps up then down,
Once slid down to my lung.
His purple hair tickles my throat
And makes my R’s come out like T’s
When I try to say this, it sounds like that
The word place comes out like please.
On days when I can be heard singing
The National Anthem or Jesus Loves Me,
‘Oh, say can you see’, turns to ‘Jose come with me’
‘Jesus loves me’ becomes ‘Cheese loaves for me’.
I’ve tried hard to clear my throat
Making deep down, vibrating sounds
I’ve coughed, I’ve sneezed, I’ve even wheezed,
Tried scaring him with a drum that I found.
At times when I’ve looked in the mirror,
And no one was watching me there -
I’d open up wide, glance from this to that side
I never found him, though I looked everywhere.
My Gurgle hides in crazy places,
Hung onto my tonsils, scrunched under my tongue
Playing Hide and Go Seek, attached to my cheek,
He’s even helped sing songs that I‘ve sung.
He wakes when I am sleeping,
Causing my room to rock and rumble
He makes my lips quake, my nostrils to shake
Saws logs while I toss, turn and mumble.
I’ve learned to like my little Gurgle
His playfulness, swing and his wiggle -
For when he’s jumping from front tooth, to molar, to tongue,
Words that I say often make others giggle.
People can laugh at words I mix up
I don’t care – they’re not laughing at me!
Words get changed, letters re-arranged,
Amused, they smile quite happily.
I think I’ll give a name to my Gurgle,
Call him Barney or Roger or Jay
And when others ask why I say what I say
I’ll answer – it’s because of Burney , I mean Dodger or was it Ray?
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