Ready

He's brought up more art
for the walls, and wired two speakers
to the stereo downstairs.
"I'm buying more music lately,"
he says, "why not?"
His new computer has a
wireless mouse and keyboard;
he can sit anywhere
and type his poems,
says he'll bring more chairs
for visitors who come later
when he's too weak
to get up.
A stack of books
he's been meaning to read
sits beside the bed.
He's working on it but knows
he'll never finish.
We talk about the poetry
prize he's setting up,
reminisce about our travels.
Being Tom, he advises me
about hiking trails in Utah.
Then, just before I go
he shows me the vial
of morphine
he's been saving
from prescriptions.
It's almost enough he says
matter-of-factly
when he decides it's time
he'll be ready.