Charlie's Dinner – Sue Fagalde Lick

He leads the wheelchair parade,

suspenders slipping off bony shoulders

as he pushes forward toward the smell

of beef and mashed potatoes.

 

Parking at his usual spot,

green tablecloth tonight,

he winks at the girl in scrubs

who gives him milk and apple juice.

 

“Hey Charlie, how are you?” she says.

“Just great, just great,” but she’s already gone,

helping Mary who spilled her juice.

It’s dripping sticky on the floor.

 

Charlie sits with Marvin and Ellie,

who never talk. He says, “Good evening”

as he tucks his napkin into his shirt.

They’re bringing out the dinners now.

 

“Oh boy,” says Charlie, “here it comes.”

Marvin snores. Ellie screams, “No!”

A morsel of beef, a mound of mashed,

gravy on a plain white plate.

 

Besides the meat, there’s applesauce,

soggy squash, some carrot spears,

and chocolate ice cream for dessert.

Charlie eats and pats his happy gut.

 

He hasn’t had a meal this good

since well, he can’t remember when.

He might have had a wife before.

Maybe she cooked; he can’t recall.

 

But now he’s living like a king.

Food served three times a day

by pretty girls who squeeze his hand,

then tuck him safely into bed.

 

A siren wails from down the hall.

He sees nurses running night and day,

people shouting, falling, weeping.

Charlie sips his milk and grins.