I'm the one dying not you..how silly of me,
wanting to make It a group thing
Even for a moment,
so that maybe it wouldn't be so lonely
Of course I have lots of company, don't worry about me,
this is a hospice after all we are all here for the same reason
We aren't really a social bunch though
We don't play a lot of cards - hard to care who wins
I guess we could read each other's fortunes,
or check our horoscopes - but we are already
pretty sure what's in store for us...
The fortune cookie was right:
A tall dark stranger in my future...
I wish he would gargle before we meet
That breath is so bad...
I wonder if he will kiss me when he arrives...
But now the hour is late and I'm tired...
just wanted to tell you I'm still alive
time is running out and I have things to say -
though I don't remember them much of the time
I'm awake less and less lately,
but it's hard to tell the difference
She's here again now,
I wish I could remember who she is
She's the lady with long hair and sad eyes
She's here sometimes when I wake up, holding my hand
Looking at me like she is hoping to find an answer
and half the time I don't even remember the questions
She doesn't work here, I know them all...
Soft hands bathes me and changes the i.v's,
she smells of cheap perfume and hard work,
the stink of defeat permeates her body,
causing me to wish her life were a little easier
The guy with an accent turns me - hoping
to prevent bedsores I'm sure - and
he does something with my legs -
No nothing like that - he must think
I'm going to suddenly wake up and
want to dance, so he exercises my legs
I think I'll call him Juan....
Juan is in love with me and wants me
to come out dancing with him
He talks to me in his soft gentle voice
and I pretend to be asleep so he will continue.
I think I may love Juan too
In a better world
we would run off to his home in Mexico
and raise fat little brown children
to take care of us in our old age...
Then there is The Bitch....
She berates anyone who happens to be around
telling them everything they are doing is wrong,
I've never heard her say a nice word to anyone,
I pretend to be asleep for her too
but not for the same reason
The lady with the sad eyes...
Who is she?
She isn't one of the criers,
they still come on the weekends most times,
but they just sit and cry and they bore me to tears
I don't shed them or they will know I'm awake
and they might stay longer
God forbid...I'm far past being lonely now,
I just want to tell you something -
before It is all over...
If I could only remember what It is
I think that is why she's here...
she is my voice,
my connection to life somehow
She's not an angel,
her skirts are way too short
and her eyes are way too sad
She brushes my hair gently back from my forehead
I want to open my eyes and let her see the answers there,
but I'm afraid if I do, she won't come back -
and I'm not ready to say goodbye yet...,
Almost, but not quite there....
When I am, I know she will say the words for me
I just want you all to know that I'm trying so hard to remember,
whatever it is I need to tell you....
I haven't forgotten you...
have you forgotten me?
(C) 2002 Sue Hess
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