Armenian

 Woke with a bit of song lyric in my mind, no idea where it came from, but vaguely suspected something churchy. Managed to pull enough of it together to research it, and yup. A muddy history, from a time when  the words young christian workers  put together were not outside of reality, a pro union group of some sort. I'm sure I sang it in my church choir, led by I. M. Lancendorfer.  Mid '70s.

Needing a good meal, we went to Hong Kong Tea House, as I sat in the car for Dylan to pick it up, a young woman danced at the bus stop. Against the bronze colored shelter, in grey clothes with white shoes, and dark skin, a block away, I could see her, but not create a video. She had earbuds on a wire in, so I assume she was looping a few bars of music and working out a bit of complex choreography. She was precise, skilled and graceful. I watched until the train arrived, and she vanished. 

A man walked by as Dylan was packing the food into the back with a seatbelt. He wore a thick chain at his belt, and I remembered that my eldest brother was mugged in high school on the way home from a dance. They hit him in the head with a chain. A passerby witnessed it and got him help. He was in the hospital for at least a week with a concussion. I was 4 or 5 yrs old. 

Just saw a truck go by with this flag. Looked it up.  Armenia. Which makes sense. Acknowledging the genocide there. I'd known about this a long time, I grew up in a neighborhood that was once heavily Armenian,  a few were left, as well as the Armenian Hall a block away. 

I looked harder at the near intersection, and it's crazier than I realized. There are six lanes, one right and one left turn lane and four middle lanes. No wonder we get so many crashes there. It is in dire need of traffic calming methods, narrowed and better marked. 

My mind seems to be a roiled pond, left to settle, and unexpected memories are bobbing up, sinking down. 

Skidding to a halt.