This morning we jogged early
I was back in my flat by six-thirty
From my tenth floor view of the Charles River basin,
The morning was incandescently flushed by the peach-colored sun.
The transparent clouds seemed stylistically stained, artfully workshopped,
which offered a softened, Tiffany glass effect wholly worthy of worship.
I can’t stop to admire it. I’m jamming things into suitcases.
Cramming things into boxes, giving things away.
I had a second interview Monday afternoon, for Johns Hopkins med school. They put the question to me:
“The semester starts in 18 days - can you do that?”
“Yes,” I replied, and just like that, I'm a Blue Jay.
Of course, I had to withdraw from the masters program but Harvard gave me a full (95K) refund - I think they’re more excited about my med school admission than I am.
I’m not afraid of discordant notes.
They change the landscape.
Take us to new emotional places.
Any major work is going to have them.
.
.
A song for this:
Hang on Little Tomato by Pink Martini
It's Amazing by Jem
Silhouette of trees dressed in chiffon prints
Oaks, pines, maples flushing their hair
I trail along their rumba curve
Way down to where young bushes nestle
Above gentle sail of Charles River
crossing a moat...slowly, foliage begins to drop
thin leaves in nearness of autumn’s embrace,
As more shredded timber follow in graceful float
Where mauve petals kiss the air.
The bronzing of glens and wheezing of mist
Reach a final close of summer fire,
Cluster of moments drape veined trunks
With sniffs of earthy scent, reminding me
How lush the branches swell against heat
Of August ‘s coals when two pairs of arms
Coated the moon with paint of reveries,
Fresh the meeting of palms fondling the barks
In a fleeting sketch of romance, and then,
Like a drift of frail boughs in milder rumba dips,
Trees hold sepia charades, until....
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