WANDERING

old men    
are wandering tonight  
wandering and wondering    
bumbling along in their baggy pants    
and stained shirts    
making left turns    
into ditches    
or looking for time clocks    
and lost loves, long deceased    
and calling for their dead dogs    
and trying to find their way home    
for hours on end    
    
and they are checking    
for their wallets    
and rechecking    
and checking again    
and they are looking for keys    
in dark houses    
where second notices go unnoticed    
and they are hungry    
and wondering where she is    
and wearing down the carpet    
from bedroom to den    
to bedroom to den    
and calling her name    
and wondering    
   
and old women    
are frantic for their babies    
and cooing over dolls    
and feeding    
and wanting    
and wondering    
and they, too,    
are seeking    
something    
they seem to have forgotten    
and the road seems    
to never end    
and she is panicked    
in the parking lot    
and wondering    
where he is    
why he hasn't    
found her yet    
   
and there is no place    
but institutions    
for old men and old women    
with dementia    
where they are safe    
and warm and fed    
and that's what's best    
and that's what's worse    
and there are no other answers    
and that's just the way it is    
and goddamn    
don't we want    
and wish there was something better    
and don't we pray    
that our minds are the last to go