enablers - Cliff | Текст песни

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• enablers
• Cliff

In the living room he rocked in his chair,
looking moon-eyed and amused.
It was four in the afternoon,
and his day was over.
In a few minutes the grandson would be gone,
and he’d shuffle across rooms in his slippers
to make his drink at the kitchen window,
stirring the whiskey and sweet vermouth
with gnarled finger,
looking over the hills and valleys
with his one good eye.
Days crank up and a sun wheels over the sky,
and he has his common places to fill up
again. One sip for the place where Bobby is,
another for his wife,
one more for the several loving dogs whose backs of ears
all felt his tender clutch and scratch.
The light grip of the glass receives the same affection;
the restless sips go to the place where pains
reduce to facts; where hard memories are constant aches
and giving up is never too far behind.
In a year’s time I’d sleep on the floor next to his bed
and listen to his erratic breathing through the night,
waiting for the body to surrender.
When the last breath did come, he looked right at me,
and then he passed on.
They wheeled out the small, emaciated body
under a white sheet.
Most of the land around was dead right along with him.


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