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.
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