Street Song

On Wednesday, notebook in hand, I rested outside the lab where a phlebotomist had drawn a vial of blood with a painless prick (hmmm, I can't resist -- sometimes I can be nice).  Frat boys threw footballs while talking on cellphones.  Bright sunshine warmed bright green grass.  So I wrote:

Street Song
 
Cars fly past
wing-less
like broken birds
they sing the agony
of tired tires,
cracked mufflers,
folks in a hurry.

"I notice you were 'resting,' not 'waiting,'" says Virginia.

"Yes," I say, "the day was so beautiful I decided not to wait for Karen to pick me up.  I rested instead."

Today far exceeded expectations, too.  The test results I received in the mail showed substantial improvement in cholesterol numbers.  Why?  Free-range eggs and milk, fish oil, flaxseed oil, apple cider vinegar, more oatmeal and exercise?  All of the above?  I suppose I will never know.