Retired Principal

Each year he supervised the lives

of a thousand students and forty teachers.

Asking questions. Seeking answers.

Analysis.

He retired. He travelled the world.

His world shrank.

Dialysis.

Every third day tied to a bed

watching circumnavigation of blood

leaving his body, returning.

A robot kidney buying him

another three days.

His wife was a principal too.

Did you get the milk?

His answer, irrelevant.

In ten minutes she will ask

Did you get the milk?

Alzheimers has stolen the Teachers Answers

from the back of the book.

Now Questions are irrelevant.

Answers are not

forthcoming.