Sometimes I would go out to my grandma's
and bring her lunch.
She didn't like cooking for just one.
We'd eat hoagies from Vito's market,
bag of Lay's chips between the two of us,
and sweet tea she had in her fridge
using only the plastic cups
because we couldn't have glass around the pool.

She'd point to necklaces and cashmere sweaters
from the new JCrew catalog,
dog earring all the pages she loved
her tan hands steady on the corners
with several silver rings on her fingers,
big diamond on the left one.

I hated to leave her with only the sound
of the Pennsylvania state flag flapping
against the pole,
or her neighbor's lawn being mowed.
But she smiled something huge when I waved goodbye
from the sidewalk
slowly closing the catalog,
a sympathy wind chime scoring her steps,
walking back inside
to no one sitting in the arm chair
and the TV on mute.

He'd already
slit his wrists
and tried
to hang himself

in the crapper
from the water
pipe system
and now they kept him

in the locked ward
sans belt or laces
and kept him
in sight

of at least
one nurse's sharp eyes
but still he managed
to liberate laces

from some old guy's shoes
while he slept
and had just about
tied one end

of the tied laces
to the pipes
when a nurse
seeing him

through the curtains
raised the alarm
and banged
on the door

and raised
merry hell
but he just set about
his slow task

attempting to put
the narrow noose
about his head
when some big

male nurse
(ape build)
banged open
the door

and pulled him down
sans the laces
and pinned him
to the floor

Benedict smelt
body odour
and cheap aftershave
and still

the ape nurse
held him down
there was that
Beatles' song

on the radio
on the locked ward
HELP
I need somebody

the nurse joined in
the chorus line
Benedict caught sight
unwittingly

of the female nurse's
pale pink *******
as she moved
on over to help

and her perfume
was better
and has she
pressed down

nearer
to give aid
he closed his eyes
gentlemanly

so as not to view
the cleavage
coming his way
can’t have

too much excitement
(he mused darkly)
in one suicide
attempting day.

little girls grow up

who once reached for the birds singing in the trees
now she is one of them,
the uncatchable song

i knew you as an awkward, silly, pudgy thing
but death changes people
and makes them more beautiful -

too many lose brothers.

I see him every night,
Walking, pacing, strolling.
Right outside my window,
Never seeming to have a purpose.
Just an old Saunterer,
Walking in the night.

I've tried to talk to him,
But each time I cannot seem to reach him.
He is a mirage on a desert road in the summer,
Always staying the same distance from me.

He doesn't talk, only walks,
His footsteps haunt my dreams.
His memories are all i see,
His life is what I live as I sleep.
My street has become his resting place,
My brain, where he manifests himself to me.
I have become his safe haven,
As he is mine.

He cannot speak,
Thus we communicate through the pictures in our heads.
Sharing stories, jokes, experiences.
We teach eachother things,
He has taught me about the old world.
How cruel it was,
I have only taught him how it is still much the same.

The late night Saunterer is now my friend,
He is so sweet and caring.
He always seems to ask how I'm doing.

I didn't know I could be so similar to a man who never talks, Only walks,
I feel as if he is a reflection of me.
Or maybe of what I wish to be.

Suddenly, as if cold rain hit my face,
I am revived from a trance.
I realize the late night Saunterer is a sweet old man,
He is the spirit of the future me.