I’m late
For dinner he likes to eat
early
Like old people eat
I’m late I try
To see him every day to lay
Eyes on him and brush
His yellowing hair
I wonder if he wonders
where I am if he even cares
beyond the food
I bring him I know
if I get there too late
He’ll give up on me
It hurts my heart to think
He waited for me watching for me
Finally deciding I wasn’t coming
I’m late
I want to
Call him tell him
I’m coming
I’m on my way don’t
Give up on me
I want to call him but he
Doesn’t have a mobile
Phone doesn’t have a
phone he’s a horse of course not
My grandpa after grandma died
Living upstairs at the Beecher House
Never himself his old self some
Other old man we had to feed but didn’t know anymore
Of course it wasn’t me feeding him it was
Mom and Wanda and Bob
Don’t forget bob Bob who cleaned the
Shit off the furniture and walls and carpet
After grandpa said a pack of wild dogs must have run through here
Why do old men lose their shit when their wives die
Will I lose my mind am I losing
My mind to think about calling my horse when
I’m running late to feed him
Or is it just how much I love him
Or just how worried I am about getting it wrong
Or is it a telling look at how much I rely on my phone
I’m late
But he’s there by the gate
Waiting for me watching
For me
He hasn’t given up on me
Yet.
