Typical Afternoon At The Nursing Home
Old men sit back in fat green veranda chairs.
They’re as comfortable as an airline’s first class passengers
and the nurses do pop in and out like stewardesses
but not with liquor, just pills and frothy medicine.
Nor are they going anywhere unless feeling worse,
day by day, is a destination.
At least, they haven’t lost their sense of humor.
They know exactly where it is. In the distant past.
But cuss words still roll off their tongue,
directed at what is out there,
which is mostly a lawn, some benches, a fence,
and sunset through the trees.
In a better world, that’s where the pilot would be,
guiding them safely over the horizon.
But this vessel can’t get off the ground.
It takes all its strength not to drop below it.
Author: John Grey
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