walk into the
room not knowing what to expect.
Grandpa sitting in a recliner oblivious
Eyes opening cold desolate blue
a tube emerges from his boxers and
slithers under the chair. Hair blewn
and strewn, mumbling all drained of the powerful dignity
he worked his whole life to live comfortable
and now he has two months tops.
Cold blackness is eating his liver white
craters of cancer. I walk into the room
afraid and say 'hey grandpa' the people
look at me with strange hesitate smiles
and grandmothers eyes are glazed over -
she looks different than i remember her -
a phone rings in the back room
grandpa looks around,
sees his new wheel chair
and says 'all i need is a motor on that
thing and i can roll
on down the highway'.