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Cell Phones and Song Cells
by Mary Langer Thompson
 
Usually, I like
to drive and sing
with the radio. 
But not today.
I'm racing across freeways
to join you in
an emergency room.
 
I read that
canaries stop singing
each autumn
when their song-generating
neurons die.
 
You were able to tell me,
with slurred speech
over the carphone that
your head felt strange,
you were too dizzy
to walk.
 
In winter, the birds' neurons
grow back.   In spring
they learn their songs
all over again.
 
I step harder on the gas,
knowing that
if you leave me,
replenished neurons or not,
I will not sing.
 
 

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