LIFEBLOOD

When I was a kid maybe 8 or 9 years old, I used to lay in the backseat of the family sta-tion wagon and look out the windows at the sky zooming by. In the foreground there would be telephone poles with wire strung out, seemingly moving with the car, oscillating up and down from pole to pole, dipping in-between. Repeating over and on to the next pole. It made for a rhythmic and graphic sensation, a facsimile of a modern cardiac monitor in a way.