He was on the couch again.
He was having thoughts again.
Thoughts about killing Grandma.
Sheila inked on her Moleskine:
Primary caregiver’s primary caregiver.
They sat in silence for fifty-nine minutes.
Then he admitted: she’s old, I’m young–
I won’t succumb to her arthritic thumb.
Nodding like a pendulum, Sheila
Penned a careful addendum:
Remind Karl re: Boohoo order.
Shorter Poems 