“The truth is I'm getting old, I said. We already are old, she said with a sigh. What happens is that you don't feel it on the inside, but from the outside everybody can see it.”
― Gabriel García MárquezParallel Places
Two men lie parallel
in geri-chairs.
Mesmerized, one
watches the other sleep,
acts as his protector.
When the sleeping man gasps
and coughs, the first
jolts upright. On unsteady feet
he stands, ready
to save his comrade.
Two aides rush
to settle the first man.
One of them leans forward
and shouts into his ear.
You fell this morning. Remember?
I did?
He appears perplexed, then
does as he is told.
On his side, with his
eyes open wide, he watches,
breath timed
with his wheelchair-bound friend,
even though his sleeping comrade
floats unaware in distant dreams.
The sleeping man’s visitors,
a man and a woman,
notice the gentle guard.
They smile and assure
the old gentleman
he can stay where he is.
He nods.
He may hear.
Or not. He continues his
quiet watch.
The sleeping man's visitors talk about
their grandchildren,
vacations, ordinary tasks.
until the summer heat
breaks into a storm.
The woman rises
to kiss the sleeping
man on his forehead.
His eyes flutter, but he doesn't rouse.
She pauses. The space between
real and unreal appears,
a shore cracking and dividing.
She fears touching a place
that doesn’t promise an exit.
terrypetersen 