ninety-four

ninety-
four

my friend, ninety-four,
resides in
a wheelchair in

a
nursing
home;

she does not know,
hasn't the foggiest notion,
who I am
or
whether she's seen
me ever before.

but
a part of her,
though a bit wasted,
I think,

knows

I am the one visitor who
massages her shoulders
and her upper back.

on first sighting me,
she bends forward
to give me room;

she leans frail,
white-, thin-haired,
expectantly.

I oblige.

she moans, relaxes
into it

for
a
time ...

until quite abruptly I
wheel her from her room
to an aide

and

(I smile in clear
apology)

inform that aide
my friend has had

just
now

a mighty hefty bowel
movement.

I wave good-bye
on leaving,

though my friend, otherwise
preoccupied, distracted,

does not/
cannot
notice ...

and

would not
remember
if she could.

^

pheu tprepbd ...
[she] stk tphot/
k-pb tphoe.