Thursday, June 30, 2011

Nature (continued)

Mom and Dad's Fault

Sister Irma's boney finger pierces my chest.
Returning to my second grade classroom following recess,
I flash someone "the bird."
Second grader, I'd seen older boys use the sign.
I ask Joe, a schoolmate, what it meant.

At 51, I dribble up-court.
Sister Irma's finger stabs me again.
"I probably ate too quickly.  It's heartburn."
Game over, I head home.
Pop a half-dozen Rolaids.  Relax in bed.
"It'll be gone in the morning."

No such luck.
Days later, cardiologist hover over me.
Announce I need a quadruple bypass.
"But, I don't smoke, eat badly and I work out regularly."

"Genetics."

No comments:

Post a Comment