WHO ARE YOU?

Do you want a peppermint?
Granddaddy asked, placing
His arthritic hand into his
Pocket in the attempt to
Bring one out, but failed.

No, Eileen replied, you keep
Them for yourself; your need
Is greater than mine, she added,
Imagining the hand that stuffed

Peppermints into the mouth did
Other deeds less savoury. I offered
A peppermint to Michael Collins
Once you know, he said, his mind

Taking off down a different route,
The old guess who I’ve seen and
Shaken hands with routine. He must
Have shaken more hands and shared

More peppermints than anyone she’d
Ever met, she laughed softly to herself,
Watching him look down at the cat on
His lap, the thing snuggled there despite

The scent of urine that lingered faintly
Where he’d awkwardly placed his penis
Away. Shame he had to die that way,
Granddaddy said suddenly, his voice

Louder, disturbing the cat; bringing
Eileen to attention, her eyes taking
In his hand stroking the cat’s back,
Fur mingling with peppermint; the

Same fingers that dived awkwardly
For peppermints; that shook hands;
That scratched his crotch. Eileen bent
Down and kissed his head; the bald

Patch meeting her lips; his brain mere
Inches away, the thoughts mingled there
Like some mismixed stew; a broth of all
Things past and present stirring around,

She imagined, as he lifted his eyes to her,
Eyes wet like dew and said, who are you?