On Slipping Through Terminal 1,
Concourse C at OâHare
First you descend, not all the way
but enough so jumbo jets can roll
across the tarmac caressing your hair while
music driftsâevery song you
ever loved and then you are struck
by the lights, waves of neon rainbow rippling
racing overhead, drawing you onto
the moving path that carries you on more
quickly than you want to
go, pulling you through the dark tunnel
as the planes whine and rumble, readying
to spirit you away, tear you away
then far away at first her voice echoes
now clearly more clearly the siren calls:
please look down she whispers the moving
sidewalk ends she says please look down she sings
and you know what that means but youâre gliding
way too fast yet still grounded and you gaze
up into the lilting luminescence
unconcerned about the fall.
The Teens
For Christ Convention
At the Holiday Inn
There were legions
of them.
There was just
the two of us.
They squeezed
their fervent bodies
into the elevators.
Our aging bones
rose up alone.
They frolicked
in the hall
stormed the Coke machine.
We closed the door
latched it
sipped wine
from plastic cups.
Revivaling
they whooped
they hollered
flush with body
and blood.
The spirit moved us.
They stayed awake
all hours
prayed for flesh
and absolution
left forlorn.
We made
hallowed sounds
left reborn.
Flu Season
Itâs nothing, you tell winter hordes
who break down the door
flooding the waiting room
with mucus, calling at all hours
itâs nothing itâs going to be
fine in a few days; go to bed
drink, take Tylenol by the clock
and youâll be fine in a few days
they listen, they trust
and you believe âtil after
the fiftieth, or maybe
the five hundredth case
The Crashâ
the worst headache: maybe an
aneurysm leaking
The Chillâ
virions rupturing
re-infecting, spilling
into blood, temperature spiking
like a patient in sepsis
like one with that virus
no one can cure
The Coughâ
incessant, wracking
subduing, old manâs friend
if only sleep would come
just go to sleep
but trachea on fire
bronchial tree burning
in spasms, animal feeding
on heartâmaybe itâs not
what you thinkâviral-ravaged
neurons conjuring every
disease you ever learned
ever dreaded
fever breaks, cleansing sweat
body still resolvable
slowly overcomes, antibodies
rescue this time
but you are not immune.
The Whistler
They come every four months
He smiles, drools, sits quietly
always says yes, only says yes
at her turn she bitches and sighs
bemoans and cries: heâs getting worse
heâs only getting worse
She canât take it anymore
and neither can I.
Have you considered a Home? I ask
my stethoscope on her chest
trying to discern
whatâs inside, looking into her
mascara-caked eyes now
red and ruined beyond relief
when she shyly says, Doctor
Iâve gotten so fat but do you know
he still whistles when
I take off my clothes
And he sits there smiling
smiling, grinning, nodding
Yes, he says. Yes.
What We Said
He said he was losing weight because his appetite was off, the stress and all that, but otherwise felt fine except for the heartburn that heâd always had, more or less, but she finally made him come in.
And I said how long have your eyes been this color and he shrugged and she said itâs just the fluorescent lights and I said to him I think you should go into the hospital for some tests and he looked at me with those jaundiced eyes and asked: just for some tests? And I said yes.
Thereâs a growth I said a day later as he lay in his yellowness on the starched white sheets. A growth he asked? That doesnât mean anything bad necessarily she said. Right, doctor? She looked at me her eyes brimming. I mean it could be a cyst, right? Just something filled with fluid? It could be, I said to him who didnât look back. A cyst she said.
The surgeon called me after the case and said what a mess it was in there but he thinks he got it all. You got it all? I asked. I think so he told me. But Iâd have the oncologist see him anyway he said.
The surgeon thinks he got it all I said to the patient who was leaking out through his tubes. Thank God she said. Oh thank you doctor she said. We need to have an oncologist see him just in case I said.
In case? she said. Yes I said. As long as thereâs no chemotherapy she said. He doesnât want chemotherapy. I understand I said.
He was sitting up, the tubes were crawli...