“Let’s give the patient that,” the doctor said.
And though I hear the phrase is often used
in medicine, it swept within my head
as charming and intelligent. Excused
from every pre-planned date – on pause instead,
and not ambivalent or too confused,
we’ll macerate these moments thoroughly,
and then imbibe whatever comes to be.
I tend to pay attention when you speak,
and that’s not something that I often do,
I comment egotistically. Technique
is seldom taught me, but I’ve had a few
occasions when I don’t overtly seek
correction, but you voice a phrase or two.
I thank you, son, with deep sincerity.
Your urgent admonitions succor me.
Too late to have effect, too soon to grieve,
I move about in limbo as we wait.
Erect I stand and bend to pack to leave,
but when I land will she recuperate?
Or does descent to death precipitate,
and will she now be tethered to a line
embedded, not at home, a site she’d hate,
if she were well enough to wake to whine?
We’re glad he’s opened up. It’s good to see
him acting genuine (authentic, too).
As vulnerably as he recently
behaves, the tendency to overdo
is not surprising. Still, the snits he threw,
protective of his weekly shopping list,
were off-the-wall emotional. The stew
was served. That avocado won’t be missed.
I thought I knew the plans for several days
ahead, but recent circumstances threw
a curve I can’t avoid, to skew my ways.
I thought I knew.
I’ll travel home. The acts that then ensue
depend on what a hospital conveys.
Already I detect a different view
of Tuesday, maybe Wednesday, with displays
of alternate environments. I’ll do
what needs, with turn of mind to reappraise.
I thought I knew.
My resolutions tend to flow top-down,
but this snuck up and now surprises me.
What bubbles from my belly to my crown,
and there takes root and grows emphatically,
is wishful learning from proximity.
I will receipt from neither film nor book.
A fact from someone whom today I see,
is what I listen for, and where I look.
I seldom catch a ride above the bay.
My normal route is underneath, on BART.
But recently, I rode the bridge. The day
was bright and as the sun began to start
to sink among a planar cloud array,
the solar underlighting mimicked smart
design of UFO, it seemed to me,
that’s poorly caught in this photography.
I ought to be a pessimist, and yet
my serotonin levels must be high.
I’ve never been depressed, and blue moods get
brief tenancy in me. Oh I can cry
at tragedy, and worries may beset
that loved ones won’t prevail at what they try.
But hopefulness in me won’t dim or quit,
perhaps impelled to be Mom’s opposite.
An office day and then a meal with Mom,
succeeded by this trek across the bay
(with three legs), now I’m stretching to stay calm –
for after travel, there’s a cost to pay
above the fare and food, in timing’s flay.
I’ll follow with exquisite City meal –
one I don’t wish to cancel or delay.
Along with tax on vigor, there’s appeal.
No sooner am I home than I depart –
a scanty sixteen hours, half in bed,
are all I get before engagements start,
and what ensues are five days out instead
of that for which I yearn. But I won’t dread
the interruptions – they’re for love and food.
I’ll gird my mind, align my spine and head,
and gather to regain my solitude.
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