[Today’s prompt included the instruction not to overthink it, which I certainly honored in this bit of stream of consciousness trivia.]

Acetaminophen sounds more like an enchanted nymph
turned into a tree toad by jealous Hera
because Zeus laid with her in the elf ring
of mushrooms, which resemble not at all
the ones moldering in my refrigerator’s spoiler drawer,
but which just might have been planted by Edmund’s Fairie Queen
sometime before 1590 when she was captured by the poet
though she hid under the hay with the rats nibbling her fairy toes
already sore from dancing en pointe as La Sylphide,
the doomed dream lover for whom James deserted his bride,
than a simple OTC remedy for my aching head.