barely assisted living

your mother lands
in an assisted care
facility.
you sign the sheet
in the grand
living room where
a Christmas tree
blinks wildly
in the corner.
a man, older than
any man should be allowed
to live, jumps
up from the couch
and stumbles towards
you. you remember
the old joke
that he may have gone
to high school
with moses.
he wants to shake
your hand. and shake
your hand. and shake
your hand.
with no room on the couch
you kneel beside
your mother and ask her
how's it going.
she's in a pink robe
and her hair has been
brushed back
like metallic silk.
behind you
a woman is trying
to pull off your boots.
she's in a wheel
chair, so you let her
work on the laces.
it's lunch time
and a tray of bologna
sandwiches
have arrived on
a tray. there is juice.
and one cookie
each for the seven
people in the room.
the man takes three
cookies, stuffing
them into his pants,
then he goes off into
the corner
with his sandwich
leaving a trail of
lettuce behind his Velcro
sandals.