One for the road.

Friday I'm leaving work early
to go visit my grandmother's brother
who went to the doctor for a routine check-up
and wound up in the hospital on his deathbed
at the ripe age of ninety-six.

The problem I have is not knowing whether
or not to wear that long-sleeved button-down.

Would that imply that I know that he knows that I know
that this will probably be our awkward goodbye
in my family's foreign tongue that I can't speak fluently?

Something tells me that when his pale blue eyes
see the meek look in mine
such trivialities as my shirt won't matter, but
it's just another of those things I won't know for sure
until I'm on the other side of the barrel.

God deals too many of those cards.