He went to see the oldboy in the hospital.
It was his job to check in on all the oldboys
and oldgirls that they assigned to him.
He liked his job very much
the oldboys and/or girls had some of the best stories
or sometimes it was good just to visit with them
and watch the boredom or sadness leave them for a bit,
while they were visiting or chatting.
This particular oldboy was one of his favorites.
The oldboy reminded Jay of both himself and his father in an odd way.
For one, the oldboy had a lot of tattoos
and was always mad about something.
The oldboy had the proverbial soapbox
and wasn’t afraid to stand on it.
Also, the oldboy cussed a lot.
The oldboy was short/fat/bald too,
like Jay’s Pop was and Jay liked,
honestly to see this particular oldboy because
he felt like it gave him a glimpse into his own future.
It didn’t help though that the oldboy liked to smoke
those little blue cigars
and drink a lot of coffee
and whiskey,
because Jay liked, in moderation/sort of,
***** and smoke and cheeseburger sandwiches
and doughnuts
and bacon
and all that stuff that was surely shortening his life.
Jay didn’t like to think about that,
but he liked the look-forward that the oldboy afforded him.
Anyway, the hospital visit came about
and Jay made his way to the third floor
turning left and right scanning the signs
for the right room number.
He found it pretty fast
and made his way to the oldboy’s room.
The room was sad straightaway.
The little closet with the shelves just had a ratty pair of shorts
and a holey tshirt on it.
The bed was made up tight and clean.
It looked like no one had slept in there the night before.
There was the oldboy asleep in the hospital room recliner-chair.
He was in his hospital gown and drawers
with ratty old sandals on his feet. His chin was tucked in between his ***** and his gut
and he was snoring loudly.
Hey, Oldboy!
ZZZZzzzz
Hey, Oldboy, ya’wake?
ZZZzzzz
Hey!! Ya’in here!!??
MMmmhmm?!
Hey, ya okay? Why ya in’here? Whatsamatter? Ya’needsomethin’?
Oh, hiya Jay.
Thanks fer comin’round.
His leftside looks a little hangdog.
They’s tellsa me I’da has had a stroke.
Oh, that’s a ****** shame, Oldboy!
What the hell’ya gonna do now?
Oh, I’sa don’t right know, Jay.
I’ma sad shape,
an’ I’ma miss my dog.
Lookit, Oldboy…
I’m calling The State.
I’m telling that they cannot send you
to the house without some extra time for someone to
lookout for you.
They’ve gotta keep someone
keeping an eyeball on you.
They can’t send you home
with nobody keeping tabs on you.
Hey, that’s a good plan.
In this life ya gotta hava pal
and that pal’s gotta lookowt for ya.
Thanks fer comin’ by, Jay…
MMMhmmmZZZzz.
The Oldboy fell asleep
and Jay talked to some nurses
asking them not to send the oldboy home
until they’d talked to The State
and gotten him some extra help
and they said that they would do that
and they asked Jay to sign a release
and they woke the oldboy up
to ask him if it was okay that they talk to Jay
and the oldboy scribbled his name
on the paper and zonked out
and the nurses talked to Jay
and Jay made ‘em promise to do the good stuff
they said they would
and then he left
and went down the elevator
to the parking lot
and lit a cigarette
and felt sad and sorry
for the oldboy.
*
-JBClaywell
©P&ZPublications
a work poem