So he’s down to less than half his usual weight:
can’t wait to see if I can see him; he’s a ghost
of his former self, a skinny old withered old guy
my brother in law, and I know he’s living of cancer
but he won’t admit it, nor will his wife.
Summers, years ago we used to sit with binocs
out front of the cottage Sundays and comment
on topless beauties passing on gleaming white boats;
God I miss those days when he and I would
sit on our asses, sipping on Labatt’s Blue
there in the sunlight under the trees and feeling
superior to anyone else and loving the life we had,
But we don’t have now.