Reunion
by Judy Brekke
sitting on green metal bench
in his blue medical scrubs
he smokes a cigarette
in the warm late night air
our eyes connect when
i walk from the car
to the ER entrance
my son on crutches
it is Blake
a classmate 10 years
younger who looks
15 years older than me
his dried apple face
gaunt and lined with
years of blood and life
scoured away in the hospital
hair thin, gray, clings
to a head coveting thoughts
and visions of severed limbs,
missing skulls, and punctured hearts
he passes us in the lobby
looks directly into my eyes
we both say a hesitant “hi”
his back slouched forward
from transporting burdens of
injecting toxic dye into
patients veins and arteries
that burn from the inside out
he pushes the hospital gurney
with my son back to ER room
returning him from an ultra sound
procedure exploring for blood clots
“it is you” he says
coming into the room
crouching against a pale green wall
next to the folding chair and IV pole
discussion prevails of
past encounters in the hospital
life outside, family ties,
friends and acquaintances
his eyes black dots
beneath thick glasses
hands shaking while
they hold each other
reunion is brief
sadness overtakes pleasant encounter
he walks out the white hanging curtain
to complete another 16 hour day
