I’ll Take The 1:30, Thanks...

The doctor’s words drift together

Something about vascular, or blood

That is or isn’t where it should be...

The chart on the wall is graphic

Skin ripped clear, insides out

The window’s blinds 

Are slats made of a 

Light, artificial wood.

Gather the clothes,

Thank the nurse, and

Tell a quick story to the doc

The smile of polite company

Keep it light, keep it among 

momentary friends, as if

Drinks were on the table

Instead of needles and gauze

Next appointment in three months

Or never, or maybe tomorrow 

it all just depends how things go

But for now, I’ll take the 1:30, thanks

And thank you for your time.

I limp back, and park the car

To worried hugs and questions,

To our life, where everything is where

It should be forever…

The crayoned scrawls on the fridge

Are crystal clear, make perfect sense

The recliner waits patiently unopened

Brown leather, faded at the arms

Take off the outer clothes, 

Check on what’s for dinner

And listen to her day’s events

The sharing of a love in words

Keeping it simple, perfectly so

A glimpse of timelessness.

Hearts on the table,

Instead of needles and gauze.

Dinner in an hour, 

Or maybe an hour and a half

It just depends on how things go

For now, I’ll take a glass, thanks

And help to set the table