He’s hooked to tubes and monitors; They speak to him hoping he will hear. People test and probe reducing Him to an experiment in a bizarre Science fair where the best result is disability.
They cry for him, hope for him, pray for him As the machines, hum, pump, and chime To keep whatever he will be now alive.
I cannot see him there, but I remember Days on football fields when we were young Nights at dances with girls who teased us In the clinches and sent us home alone.
He sold me my first car and we got old together But not gracefully, not us. We struggled against who we were Trying to be who we thought we could become. Failing and succeeding as we went; Always friends who sometimes fought.
So much I remember as I lay here, Safe until it’s my turn, and I wonder if he Remembers who we were in that awful place where They pray and hope to save what’s left Of a good man’s life.