First Year, Med School

So the pile grew over successive months:

Books in the language

Of science and malady,

The pages busy with tri color markings.

And the long nights with days

That were not long enough.

We dissected in unhushed voices,

Our fuzzy notions made real in flesh.

And when it was time to leave

And enter the night of stars,

I could only think

Of the tang

Of yogurt

On falafels

Two blocks away down on Woodward.