Diana Darby ** "I V" ** Intravenous

Fo Fo

When I look at him
sitting in the orange chair,
with his lips puckered out like a deranged monkey,
I wonder how much longer.
The man I knew is fading.
I can still playfully yell, “Fo Fo”, at him
and he’ll say, “Diana, leave me alone.”
I can still give him a hard time about his deafness
and he will respond without fail,
“If you need a hearing aid, get one.”
But the man I knew,
the man who made me laugh,
the man I shared football and basketball games with,
and “Who’s on first,”
is disappearing.
He forgets which room he is sleeping in,
which toothbrush is his,
where his underwear drawer is,
what he ate for dinner,
what day it is,
what pills he’s taken,
and he forgets when I tell him
I am leaving in the morning.
I come into his room to say goodbye.
He tells me he didn’t know I was leaving.
I tell him I told you yesterday.
He tells me I didn’t.
Then he tells me he will miss me.
I tell him I will miss him too.
I already do.