chillin. just chillin. watching live action as though it were tv. waving his feet back and forth in their toasty booties under the thin yet warm blanket. wiry eyebrows raised. half grin on his face. nodding off here and there as he lies because at 82 and 11 months and 340 days he's seen all 7 continents lost a beloved ex wife and a child lived a full career and has loved ones all around him and so nothing else really matters. chillin. eyes opening and ears perking up to conversations that his mind enters mid-topic mid-sentence constructing stories judgments analyses and stand-up jokes in his ages old head scarred like Frankenstein once stapled ear to ear —to hold his brains in— he might say "high risk" we call him from winters ago when his heart was found to need a desperate re-wiring and then winters in between when his brain leaked blood into his skull and they must have mini-hoovered it out and 3 surgeries later the metal plates are no longer precariously placed and his memory isn't the greatest but he can hold his attention long enough to compliment Biden's exceeding of expectations in week one so it's winter again and i imagine him chillin. under the fluorescent lights. after a snowy ride to the emergency room. shutting his eyes sleepily as they scan and re-scan his brain and heart for any malfunction which may have led to his recent episodes as she says yep, he's chillin. must be. N-95'ed but enjoying the flit of the nurses and doctor who let him borrow his cell phone to call home in these dire days of NO VISITORS. chillin. wiry eyebrows raised. half grin on his face. nothing else really matters.