Pink dawn is an hour east.
A waning yellow moon glows among fast clouds.
The nursing home ass-wiper and floor mopper tells me her bosses keep her at
32 hours weekly – thus not having to pay health insurance.
She uses the public clinic.
I want a national single-payer system.
She gets to the nursing home, a quarter hour early.
I go to McDonald’s.
I get my senior coffee, two creams within.
I get three cookies, too.
I forgot my glasses.
I thought about going home to get them on my walk.
I didn’t.
I reach for the coffee on the tray.
I knock it over.
It spills on the floor, the tray, the opposite seat on on me.
The cookies are soaked.
I go back to the counter, and tell the server that I had an acccident.
“Do try to clean it, please, though I’ll be happy to. I’m sorry.”
“No, I’ll do it. Don’t worry.”
She is a late teen, and I’m an early 73.
She is sympathetic.
Am I a great-grandfather?
Am I a grandfather?
She gives me more coffee.
I do not think the other customers saw my hot brown and white spill.
I get my bamboo cane, and leave, refill (no charge) in hand.
Pink dawn is in the east.
The moon has dropped.
Jupiter is near the moon.
I’m mad at forgetting my glasses.
I’m mad at my clumsy spill, age, age ….
And I’m seething about the nursing home worker, and her no insurance.
Breathe! Breathe!
Eugene “Gene” Novogrodsky, mid-November 2011
