I hope I’m in a safe place. Maybe with
gardens—roses, violets, sunflowers
maybe. Someone nice to read me Greek myths,
even act out Zeus, lightning bolts powered
by his gnarled hands. Maybe apple orchards
to invite sweet pies. A view of water,
maybe, nurses dressed like mermaids. It’s hard,
I know. Regs call for order. But laughter
still feeds the universe. And song. And dance.
Classical guitarists to play after
dinner, maybe—Broca and Auric. Chance
might bring a relative or old lover.
We can sit under stars, magnolia trees.
They’ll smile and tell me who I used to be.
Roger Armbrust
September 23, 2009
