One Man's Geriatric Valentine
your hearing aids
have little value inside their box.
And yet, you say, Talk to me.
Get your head out of the sports page.
I reach across the couch and pat your hand,
visions from last night's game
fresh in my mind. I relay
the latest NBA scores with my best
Barry Manilow-style rhythm.
You smile, the television blasting
an I-Love-Lucy episode
as too many chocolates rush
down an assembly line.
I smile, refraining from a guffaw.
You misunderstand and pat my hand.
Perhaps communication is overrated.