DRAWN

 
I am getting blood drawn down in North Park, and
the young woman wearing a Beastie Boys t-shirt
across from me says to her phlebotomist that
she hates needles, which surprises her friends
as she has so many facial piercings. But piercing

needles are different, she does not mind those, she
says. I am scared of hypodermic needles too, which
is why I never tried heroin when I was young. “I
can’t believe that’s my blood!” says the young woman
as she leaves. I am wearing a Ramones t-shirt, as

befits my age, and I reflect that, more than the Beach
Boys, they are truly America’s band: conservative
Johnny, liberal Joey, drug addled Dee Dee (though
a genius song writer), and reclusive Tommy. My
phlebotomist puts my blood vials in a neat metal

tray and the procedure is done, so I drive to a
nearby McDonald’s to get my customary post-
blood draw hotcakes. Members of a church group in
matching t-shirts mill about the counter, two day
laborers in orange vests eat full breakfasts, and

a gay couple, one with a cane, study a kiosk.
The butter pats melt on my hotcakes, as I eat my
hashbrown like a furtive animal, and drizzle syrup
on the cakes. Three toy dogs on leashes scamper about
as I sip my Diet Coke. I consider that 

one guy on my neighborhood dog path remarked to
his girlfriend that people who wear Ramones t-shirts
are drug addicts. She protested the stereotype,
but he should have at least said former drug addicts.
My blood may be middle-aged, but it is squeaky clean.

 

FLUX


The incense stick flickers out, and in that brief mo-
ment, the flux of being’s fabric turns inside

out with a slight shriek, as the air gets sucked out of
the room, and I am left dangling in pure mental space.

Where do I go from here, with no aches and pains, or
trips to the physical therapist, or need to eat

feta cheese and olives, and stay strictly on the
Mediterranean Diet? Time is measured on

Earth by the tapping of keys, or is that too old-
fashioned in this age of voice commands and cable TV

cutting, binge-watching, streaming aficionados? I
just stay in my protective mental energy

bubble until a car alarm wails outside. Pop!
I notice the incense stick has gone out, so I put

the laptop down, get up from my chair, and light
another stick.