In the U.S. March Madness is linked to NCAA Men’s basketball. Here, we’re going to do something a little different. Let’s focus more on the madness in that phrase.
Let’s take Spring Fever to its next level.
Your mission- Write a poem about someone living through a different kind of March madness. Focus on the person losing something in life, whether it’s a relationship, a tree, a fish, etc. Write it and make your words count. Remember every post linked up here has a possibility for publication in the 2016 Anthology.
Write fearlessly, invite your friends, and happy writing!
The Reverie 
WHO MOVED THE DINER?
(Alzheimer’s Disease)
69 years old:
My son asks during
our phone conversation
what I ate for dinner last night.
Roasted chicken, sweet potatoes,
peas and onions, I respond.
I explain to my friends
at our weekly Tuesday breakfast
that I am ten minutes late
because my son called me.
Marvin asks about
my grandchildren’s summer plans.
I tell him music camp, again.
Falling asleep
I try to reassure myself,
after all we do eat chicken frequently
and my grandkids did attend
music camp the last few summers.
71 years old:
I just hung up the phone with my son
who seems to be calling more often.
He asked me what I had for dinner last night.
Chicken with vegetables I answered
and quickly moved on to another topic.
At Tuesday breakfast
I apologize for missing
the previous week’s breakfast.
They ask me where I was.
At a doctor’s appointment, I lie.
We frequently discuss
our medical conditions
over eggs and laughter
so they suspect nothing unusual,
which makes me feel guilty.
My son must think all we eat is chicken.
As for missing breakfast, I now
put a small red “x” in the top corner
of the current day on the calendar
I bought last week for the kitchen.
73 years old:
My son calls almost daily
on his drive home from work.
He asks me what I ate last night
and I tell him days tend
to blend together in retirement.
I drive to breakfast Tuesday morning
wondering when the supermarket
and restaurant on the corner
changed to a bank and dry cleaners.
As I turn left, I am surprised
the diner moved as well.
At that moment my wife calls
on the cell phone
she has asked me to carry
the last six months.
Marvin called the house to see why
I wasn’t at breakfast she says.
She asks me
the names of the street signs
I see around me
and stays on the phone
giving me directions
all the way home.
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