flu shot

she takes
a needle and
slides it
into your arm,
there you
go, she says,
wiping the dot
of blood
away with a
cotton swap.
you are flu
free for
another year.
and within
two weeks
you are flat
on your back
in a bed, unable
to breath,
coughing up
a lung as you
sneeze and
cool your brow
with an ice
pack. you
shiver and sweat
all at the same
time not wanting
death, but
not altogether
dismissing
the idea. never
again you vow,
if you recover,
will you get a
flu shot
from your barista
while waiting
for coffee.