Excused
A quiet man,
a good man.
An exquisite artist
in
watercolor.
Self taught.
As a sailor,
he was excused
from chipping paint,
swabbing decks,
or peeling spuds
by lighting up
when the Chief Boatswain
barked to his crew
“smoke 'em if you got 'em.”
Excused,
he put down his mop
his paint brush, or his knife,
and smoked.
Today, thirty years
later, he is dying.
He is breathing through a tube
in his throat
and laying in his bed
at home
waiting,
watching his last
football games
and waiting.
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