His spirit dances into my semi-conscious mind,
while I’m under the influence of the needles.
I feel peace.
“Did you relax?” she says,
as she enters the room,
to extract the thin sharp stainless steel from my body
Yes, I reply with my bones feeling heavy.
Gingerly, I sit up,
and notice a bright orange shoe-horn,
clinging to the coat-hanger.
It’s the only color
in this small, pale room.
And, it’s over a foot long.
I did not notice that when I arrived.
Through the dust from the stampede,
I wipe my eyes and look again.
He used a shoe-horn.
Orange
and long.
“For Christ-sake, use a shoe-horn”
He would say, over and over
“You can’t ruin the integrity of the shoe”
“And the sock will suffer as well”.
Of course, I thought,
wearing a baby’s brain
with an old man’s heart.
I don’t need knowledge
when I found wisdom
And…
Sometimes Good is better than Clever
I promise to never ruin the integrity of the shoe
I promise the sock will not suffer
And…
I promise to use a shoe-horn.
If you promise to keep showing up

Vicki Batkin

© 2011