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Love (#7)
What was I supposed to do?
Deny him the only right and last wish he had?

And on that 4th day of May
My grandfather asked me to deliver him a gun
And in that brown paper bag
I delivered

First I had to discharge him from the Hospital
Take his belongings and pack them up, folded
We both outreached for eachother, almost constantly
And took a car service for a few blocks north

His questions ran through my head
His eyes poetic and his smile warm
His leg numb and thumbs caressing my own
His fungus-finger nails hovering and blessing my own

His tears breaking the cracks in his old skin
His white hair trimmed by his own sword
His tea-stained manufactured teeth in place
His light-blue cotton shirt fully buttoned

He did not want to suffer
He did not want her to be alone
He did not want me to give
He did not want to be bought

He only wanted us to do the "right thing"
He only wanted us to do from the heart
He never understood the depth of the knowledge which resides in our hearts
He never knew the person who made me happy

All he wanted was to die in her arms
For he and the love of his life, to die together
And that is what he achieved
But now what do I do
Alone, in a silent, aged,
moth-ball smelling apartment
on 218th St?

 2000 David Greg Harth