He said he prepared the space shuttle.
Because of him, men walked on the moon.
If we were young, we could have worn parachutes
or held on to pillows, floating
through air, or I’d fly an airplane
straight to the Amazon, spanning
across countries. I was leaving
Regal Heights Nursing Home, waving
goodbye to my mother,
when Gerald in his loud yellow vest,
his green pants and socks,
tried to follow me in his wheelchair,
spinning his wheels with his hands;
the elevator alarms sounding
in the entrance hall
the aides rushed in, pulling him into his room,
his Hoyer like a life jacket, lifting him up.