The Bionic Man

Fred took off his t-shirt and looked in the mirror.
The scar was small, an inch and a half.
No one would notice even at the beach,
once he grew out his rug again.

He hated that people would know that
his heart had gotten lazy and now needed
an electric spark to beat. He might be 80
but his wife told him he was a young 80.

It vexed him that his wife would have to do
the driving for a month and he wouldn’t
be allowed to lift his left arm for weeks.
He was angry the doctors took away tools

of manhood, like climbing ladders or using
his chainsaw though to be honest,
he was glad to be done with them.
But still it was the principle of the thing.

On the bright side, he could still have sex,
The discharge instructions even said he could,
“carefully”, which he’d underlined and showed
to his wife multiple times before she consented.

The pacemaker was small, much smaller than
his Dad’s clunky model. And best of all,
he wasn’t likely to pass out anymore.
That was so embarrassing, all those people

gawking at him. He had to trust that the gadget
that kept him alive would keep working, though
it was made by humans and not guaranteed.
What if the person who made it had a bad day?

He knew he had to have faith in his fellow man
and that he had to be patient, because very soon
he would be back, sitting in the driver’s seat
and be the man of the family once more.