The Visit
I don’t know
where I live, how
will I get home?
Will you take me,
do you know?
How’s Bill, is he
doing well? He’s dead?
When did he die?
My knee hurts,
I hurt it when I fell,
walking across
a curb, there was
ice. I’m worried.
I don’t know where
I live, do you
know? I worked
in Toronto for years.
Did I have children?
How old are they?
They’re too young,
I have to
take care of them,
I worry.
I worry about everything.
Will you take me
home? I’ve forgotten
where I live. Do you
know my children?
I hurt my knee,
I’m worried, I
don’t know. Where I live.
Was I married?
John died, but
I couldn’t go
to the funeral.
I don’t know where.
Do I live
in a nice place?
Will you take me
home? I don’t know
where. I don’t.
Time eats everything.
Do you know where
I live? Will you
take me home?
1 comment:
This the peek into the future that I fear. I hope you are not writing this about someone close to you.
It reminds me of one of Jerry Dreesen's from a chapbook where he writes a conversation with his mother about his father with Alzheimers....it end up with something like "that is ridiculous....why wouldn't he know me".
This is very good I think. Reached out and shook me to the bone.
Jude
Post a Comment