About the poem and the photographs. The photographs are from NOW... The poem is from Thursday, January 4, 1990. I was thumbing through my journal from that year and found it... was puzzled by it because I remember writing it, but I don't remember if there was an actual injury or if there was a metaphorical reason for writing it. I checked the photograph for that day, and found that it was no help. I was amused to calculate that I was fifty-four-years-old when I wrote it, and I apparently considered myself old then. Ah, to be fifty-four again! (Actually, no thanks!) Life is Good!

And about the photographs: My favorite tree in Balboa Park is showing off again. Life IS good. ...and, by the way, have you ever seen a more lascivious tree in your life?
Urgent Care

The gray-haired G.P. smiled and said,
“We’ve come to the age
When these things can’t be neglected,” meaning we,
He and I, are old.
“If your heart hurts, check it out,”
And he checked it out
With the help of a skinny boy of maybe twenty-five
Who came from Alaska
To be a medical technician in San Diego
And never went back since 1983.

Blood pressure 130 over 70, heart rate 64, temperature 98.6,
EKG perfect, breathing normal,
Breathing normal, breathing normal, normal.

“Well, it’s not your heart that hurts.
Maybe your rib bruised by a cough
Or you slept wrong
Or some other thing that you can’t even remember
Happened, happened.

Stand straight. Sit up straight. Don’t give in to it.
Walk the same as usual except pretend
You’re in the army.”

“It’s a worry, isn’t it,” the boy named Charley said...
“When the hurt is in the region of your heart.