Hope you and Banjo pull on out of hospital soon, Andrew. Particularly liked
that image at the end of meters still running. Small typo: fed should be
feed at one point and the whole dog feeding stuff might be compacted a bit.
Otherwise your portrait - and empathy -comes across well.
Bill
On Wednesday, 5 October 2016, Andrew Burke <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> Preamble: I've just left hospital where I spent a few days with infected
> lungs, etc. An old bloke called Banjo was brought in to the bed next to
> mine. This is a small portrait.
>
> *DRAFT TWO*
>
>
>
> Old Banjo lies in a hospital bed
>
> Like a fallen tree in a storm. I hear him
>
> Wheezing and drawing air in, falling
>
> Short of breath then a deep rattle.
>
> 84 is not that old for trees but it is
>
> For us who walk the earth.
>
> After two days of wheezing and such
>
> He took himself up to the nearest hospital –
>
> But not before he’d fed the next door dog.
>
> He’d promised the owner to
>
> Fed the friendly mutt while he was away.
>
> A couple of days. Now this happens.
>
> He waited a couple of hours until
>
> It was 5 o’clock, then fed the dog.
>
> Hospital can wait. He wasn’t that keen,
>
> Living alone and liking his own company.
>
>
>
> Banjo drove his old Kingswood station wagon
>
> To the emergency department’s door. He didn’t
>
> Like parking smack-dab in the way,
>
> But he couldn’t walk far and this was closest.
>
> Now they had him troused up, stretched out
>
> On a bed made for a smaller patient with
>
> Leads and who-knows-what. When a young
>
> Pretty one had trouble inserting a jack
>
> Above his bedhead, he suggested she ask
>
> the young male nurse. Back in Banjo’s day such
>
> Suggestions were welcome. Today she
>
> Tried again with extra vigour. I nearly
>
> Commented but thought it best
>
> to keep my own counsel.
>
>
>
> Visitors came in. A couple from
>
> Over the road. He didn’t pull up
>
> The sheet but straightened
>
> His workman’s singlet to cover
>
> His sun-aged trunk. An old world
>
> Rough elegance surfaced and Banjo
>
> apologised for any trouble. The word
>
> had got around as it does in small towns.
>
> His wagon? Security had driven his wagon
>
> around the back. The neighbour had
>
> checked. Fair enough. To these two
>
> Banjo gave instructions on how
>
> and when to feed the dog. At home,
>
> Banjo left the backdoor open, so there was
>
> No trouble there. No trouble here
>
> Either. Banjo was on his best and full
>
> of gratitude. I was eaves-dropping
>
> through the pale blue curtain,
>
> Fascinated by the vernacular from
>
> Decades gone by, and the young couple’s
>
> Practical attention to who to ring
>
> And what in the fridge they might like.
>
> He apologised for dishes in the sink;
>
> they waved it off as of no
>
> Consequence. But it is when you’re
>
> A proud self-sufficient bachelor
>
> From a time when manners and decorum
>
> Were currency in society, bush or town.
>
>
>
> I know the house, as it happens. Not
>
> A blade of grass out of place. Roses
>
> Trimmed and cared for. So it was
>
> He who was the old man I saw
>
> Watering the garden. I was
>
> Always going past in a hurry
>
> To get nowhere important. And now
>
> We were parked side by side, out
>
> Of breath, our own meters running.
>
>
> --
> Andrew
> http://hispirits.blogspot.com/
> Books available through Walleah Press
> http://walleahpress.com.au
>
|