Your prefrontal cortex—where the concentrating and deciding gets done—
has been shrinking for some time . . . . —Gerald Marzorati
I could buy the sprinkler that waves forward and back
like the Queen tipping her hand to the hoi polloi
or an American style swearing and spitting
so hard that it spins itself
or a fairy-circle fountaining like a lily.
My life has choices and nobody
telling me squat. With my shrinking cortex unable to decide—
there’ll be no growing and certainly no flowering—
I thumb the hose and dampen the mulch to
my favorite shade of chocolate.
Most of my allotted time having passed, I might as well stand here
like a cow, empty of thought, my sweet dark eyes
contemplating the yard where the weeds used to be,
knowing, by dint of experience, what will grow back.