Dying on dialysis
I've known him
since my first days as a doctor,
and now he wants to quit.
I've been called
to write the sentence
that says he understands
the meaning of "no."
Seated on the corner of his bed,
I test him with questions
until Eric Clapton comes on the radio
picking "Lay Down Sally,"
and I drift off, thinking
this is one more riff I'll never master.
Though my white coat touches his gown,
he sees I'm gone and calls me back:
Remember when Clapton was God?
And we're in the days of Blind Faith,
comparing calluses on our fingertips
hardened from playing "Layla,"
and we agree dying is easier