I'm making myself a liverwurst sandwich at 3:00 AM,
cut slices of meat off the roll, garnish with onion.
"Poker After Dark" is on; I hear poker chips clacking.
Meanwhile our old cat Leonard is peeing on the floor,
he often doesn't make it into the cat litter any more.
I'll eat my sandwich before I spray floor with Lysol, wipe
with paper towels. Donna is away. I see the doc today:
I'll show him my bruises from falling out of bed, purple
on my arm and leg -- I narrowly missed hitting my head.
First I'll make an a.m. visit my mother in the nursing home.
For the second time running she's had a bathroom accident,
her diaper on the floor of the toilet stinking with feces.
I ask the nurse to clean her up for the consecutive week.
I can't take her out, so I walk round the grounds, smoking
my cigar, watch a swallowtail drift between holly and larch.
Christopher T. George