poem

 Satellite RadioI listen to the satellite radio in the car, I confessCan ’t stand commercials The only problem is that the signal sometimesJust goes out. Those binary bits of songs riding along on quantum waves Apparently need, at all times, a clean and unobstructed pathOccasionally it happens driving through a tunnelOr waiting to pay to exit a parking garage.The station flatlines and everything goes silentIt always comes back but still …I never get back the best partsOf the song I ’ve missed Which hardly seems fair, given the costs.Sometimes the signal goes outSeveral minutes after I ’ve unroofed myself,Some sort of time delay built into the systemBut it ’s weird nonethelessSitting in a parking lot wondering Why the world has gone silentTinkering with knobs, then, oh yeahThe drive-thru when I was picking up lunchThe I-270 overpass a couple miles backUsually it happens at the most inopportune timeCrescendoing into some rousing codaLike right when the Boss is about to yowl onAbout the poets down there not writing anything at allJust standing back and letting it all beOr New Order misted by addled memoryGoing on about your blue eyesYour green eyes, your gray eyesWhich, if you miss that, ruins the whole song,As far as I ’m concerned.I feel the same way about my ownFinicky signal beaming downFrom a distant galaxy far far away where everything makes senseAnd gravity is the wrong term for what actually keeps us grounded.I ’ll find myself stand...

Source: Buckeye Surgeon - June 18, 2023 Category: Surgery Authors: Jeffrey Parks MD FACS Source Type: blogs