I found the picture
in a room full of dirtied clothes,
with wrappers from last Halloween,
scattered across the stained off-white carpet.
The one with you and the only male descendant that mattered
the framed one.
I am shocked to see your face
so tan and full
the deep wrinkles that engulfed your age spots
never looked so comforting.

Peeking around the brick walls
just to double check that you were sitting in the patio chair
near the end of the pool.
You always were.
The backyard kept you out of the reclining chair
only pure green fit your standards.

Your grandson is perched on your lap
trying to hold back a devilish smirk .
The type of smirk
that keeps you on your toes
so that when the next rolled up ball of tinfoil comes your way
it can be dodged swiftly without loss of balance.

Your darkened wrinkled hands
intertwined with his microscopic fingers.
Accompanied by a single bottle of Miller Lite,
the emerald grass,
and a mouth full of teeth
surrounded by blacken tarred gums.
Your stained yellow teeth illuminating as the camera flashes.


You knew this wouldn't last forever.
We didn't.

Too young to see the structured path you were headed for.
Sticky tarred roads,
white snow,
and hurried goodbyes.

Pushing the words out of his sunken chest he whispers,
“I just can’t do it anymore Ang”
then collapses onto the spotted leather couch.

I should have found better hiding places.
taken your hand and insisted that you sat back down,
after all, it’s not polite to leave us in a movie theater;
even if it was only for five and a half minutes.

I should have warned you of the blackened road
you were about to embark on.
But I didn’t know.

I would have told you to quit
to finish all the food on your plate
to practice breathing,
without slow,
painful wheezing.