on base

two mice
in a maze of sea green hallways
and checkpoints.
it's all navy. blue
fatigues and boots.
there is no cheese awaiting
either one
of us as I hold his scripts in hand.
radiology to the left,
the blood lab
to the right.
x-rays, down the hall.
like meat
they weigh him
as I wait in the hall on
a plastic
chair.
they can't get the chain
off from around
his neck.
I hold his wallet, his keys,
his phone, help with the chain
like a wife
would. patiently I wait
in the narrow hall
as walkers go by, wheelchairs,
young sailors with sleeves
rolled up,
muscled for war. I wait for
the results of my ancient
sailor father,
but at the end of day
in Boone Clinic,
we know both know the same
as when we came in at 0830,
which is nothing.
the commissary awaits.