This morning the disc jockey on the local community radio station played a set of songs pertaining to crows. I was listening to Captain Beefheart careening through the bouncy manic Ice Cream For Crow. I was driving to work. My neck hurt and my arm and hand tingled with a pinched nerve. Probably another degenerating disc. People wear out.
I thought about George the Greek, about what it means to be a good man. I worried about my youngest who has yet to turn in a single assignment for his nearly finished summer class. The Island girls at Dunkin Donuts took their masks down so I could see their smiles and said, you can't get enough of us.
I brought roses for the ladies I've been working with at the hospital - nurses's aids, nurses, physician's assistants, social workers, secretaries, a psychiatrist and a manager. They celebrated me with a cake and good words which embarrassed me. Tomorrow is my last day there.
Soon it will be very quiet again.
When I got home, there was an old book of Crow Poems in the mailbox. Between the pages was someone's love which I've done nothing to deserve.
I thought about George the Greek, about what it means to be a good man. I worried about my youngest who has yet to turn in a single assignment for his nearly finished summer class. The Island girls at Dunkin Donuts took their masks down so I could see their smiles and said, you can't get enough of us.
I brought roses for the ladies I've been working with at the hospital - nurses's aids, nurses, physician's assistants, social workers, secretaries, a psychiatrist and a manager. They celebrated me with a cake and good words which embarrassed me. Tomorrow is my last day there.
Soon it will be very quiet again.
When I got home, there was an old book of Crow Poems in the mailbox. Between the pages was someone's love which I've done nothing to deserve.
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