You drove me to eye surgery today
singing “Wake Up Little Suzie”
You picked me up later
with my cool Surgery Center issue shades
after the best Psychedelic experience
since “California Sunshine”
singing “Walk Right Back”
You dropped me home to chill,
shopped, crapped the dog twice, got
my brand-new Medicare card laminated,
came back with bundles from the farmer’s
market, loaded 50 years of my poetry
onto a zip-drive, let me massage your back,
noticed my black Lauren shoes after 4 years,
finished your real estate messages, cooked
your Miracle Lamb Ragu, then baked
an organic apple galette from scratch,
went for a ride with the dog and called
me 1/2 an hour later, sounding slightly
alarmed, to see if we had lemons
for your Caesar dressing…
the day after your bone marrow biopsy
came back OK after a month of weeks
of exhaustion, antibiotics, radioactive pills
and thyroid scans, brainscans, bone density
testing, MRAs, breast biopsy, a dozen blood tests
and finally the liver test to decide how carefully
to go forward with treatment…
Yes, my dear one
of all these years—we do
have lemons…
and perhaps even
lemonade
