Milton Ehrlich
NINETY YEARS OLD
Memory fades,
you can’t recall
day of the week,
a friend’s number
you call every day—
weep for no reason.
Everything hurts,
bowels on strike,
bladder flows when
it is shut off.
Can’t walk or talk
or hear anything.
A mirror shocks
you daily—lust but
a remote memory.
Help to do anything—
trim your nails
rise from a chair,
getting in and out
of a shower.
Somebody else
drives your car.
You keep following
orders of your
former sergeant:
Wipe that smile
off your face
soldier!