I Am Leaving, I Am Leaving

When he awoke, he saw that someone had stolen his pants.
He knew that someone would come during the night
to break into the hotel room, so he slept with his pocket knife,
but the thief had been too practiced, too quiet,
and now his pants were nowhere to be found.

His parents are now employed by the nursing home,
his mother and father work the front desk,
did I see them when I came in?
I say I must have missed Grandma and Grandpa,
but I’ll be sure to say hello to them on the way out.

Have I seen his pants? Can I go find his pants?
He won’t be able to leave without his pants.
He can’t find his knife.
He can’t find his wallet.
He can’t find his watch.

I turn on the TV they’ve allowed me to install on the wall opposite his bed.
Searching, I happen across a boxing match.
We watch, me sitting beside him, recalling the times
we would go to see boxing matches, when I was a kid,
at the Civic Auditorium and the Honolulu International Center Arena.

He finally falls asleep, my father, the former boxer,
and I pull the thin blanket up to his chin,
turn off the TV, and am leaving him there
to wander through his dreams where he seems
to recall many things, both the real and the not real.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s