when you come through the garage door
I’ll meet you with black coffee
it’s a different mug every time,
mismatched in the cabinet
you know your way around the kitchen
around the house, and let me get Mom
sit and stay a while
so I can tell you all about
my patient with the orthopedic fixator
the metallic spider legs welded into her flesh
brooding over her ankle, possessive, oppressive
and you’ll exclaim Ho! That must be painful!
sipping from the mug that reads
We’re going to be really cool old people
which I selected on purpose
hoping to make you smile
you’re bored & lonely, I know I know
when I fled the city,
I thought about being your housemate
I’d put my red veil-tale on the coffee table
the way grandma used to, when I was little
next time I’m in Pine Grove
we’ll grab breakfast at the Sparrow
and I’ll complain about working nights
out of a transit ambulance
feeling so claustrophobic in an old tin can
I might just slash the tires to put it out of service
complaining, my mother always says,
is what makes us perfect companions
(and that we drink coffee black)
but you don’t have many opinions lately
your wife doesn’t remember your name
to be honest, you haven’t spoken hers
since she moved from your house
to the assisted living facility
I don’t know what to tell you, then
except memories matter
even if she’s losing hers
and saying her name is a healing process
even if she no longer recognizes yours
.
when you come through the garage door
I’ll meet you with a fresh brew,
steaming between my hands, 98 degrees
just for you
I’ll say black coffee cures apathy
storytelling heals heartache
and this time, your mugs reads
Beautiful girl, you can do anything
so won’t you please smile now?
Just Thoughts 