The Old Man
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The Old Man Wesley Hauwei Chou 1 # Springer Science+Business Media, LLC, part of Springer Nature 2020
I have five years, he said, Not long after greeting us at the door. He recites this as an axiom: Sun shines, birds fly, the tiresome lot. Strong hands, wiry legs, he flies from the chair. This is not the face of death I dreamt Written in a man's face and stoop. I see him leading every procession of Canes and walkers Gathered for a meal. Do you feel your needs fulfilled, we ask. Though what we really mean is, What do you even need? I walk for my groceries, he said. Sometimes I stop by the senior center Not very often. I don't think it's for me. What about the rug, I ask. He brushes over my fear of those tassels Streaming across that hardwood floor, Speaking of Tibetan mystics and patterns.
* Wesley Hauwei Chou [email protected]
1
Harvard Medical School, Boston, MA, USA
We interrupt: What made you decide to come here? I have five years, he repeated. I have some sum of money And I hope to die with None left in the bank.
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