Pull the Plug

My current residence
is that cramped space
between
doing what’s expected
and what’s right

I live in this disconnect

Playing the rote
caregiver role
for an ailing parent
who does not want me there

My very presence
driven by guilt avoidance
he rightfully finds offensive
for it’s such a blow to his pride
which the sickness
has slowly stripped away

He wants to privately die

No longer be a pitiful burden

Away for the vigil boo hoo hoopla
of the getting the jump on death
soon to be somber mourners
who drive the thriving death industry

Never was much
for social propriety

Neither was I
once upon a time
when I used to be
my Father’s son

He’ll be back with his late wife
soon enough
and I will resume what’s left
of my disconnected life