כי אם אני לא אכתוב מי יכתוב?

Trapped in the bathroom with an old man.

What now I shall ask the vaguely familiar reflection in the mirror

Now what? The old man will reply impatiently in turn

His white brow furrowing with tolerant discontent

I had such plans, I will muse

God is still laughing at those he will point out

I'm not beaten yet, I shall insist

Won't be long now, he will murmur

Polishing his spectacles with the edge of a damp bath towel

What's to stop me then?

That! He will point to an aluminum walker beside the sink

With four cheap tennis balls adorning the tip of each leg

He will then open the medicine cabinet and continue to say,

Among other things…

Revolutions are a young man's game! He will determine knowingly

Why risk it all when it's all just begun, I will submit

They stand the most to lose?

And the most to gain, he will chuckle

Say you could change the world by writing a book

Or pulling a trigger

Not likely that you will live to see the tree you've planted bear fruit.

Ruffling among the unfamiliar labels of capped pill bottles I will strike my final argument

You have so little left to lose.

How can I take the chance of losing anything? He will respond quietly.

When I have so very little left…

A short bulky woman of some years will walk past us on her way to the shower

She will smile at us both as she turns the tap to let the hot water run

We will not look away as she lets her bath robe fall from her wrinkled liver stained grey skin

She will fix us both with an ageless eye at a tip of an experienced grin

But she won't mind.