Striking a Bargain with Nora

Nora lives in an old folks home
for those whose minds are going.
She looks sharp as a tack
in her flowered polyester blouse
that buttons at the wrists
and her beige polyester pants
with shoes to match.
“I wonder if we might strike a bargain”
she says to me, as I sit on the bed
watching my mother push her walker
into the wall as if she could push
her way into another life.

We introduce ourselves politely
paying no attention to my mother
and then Nora asks, “Would you be
interested in taking that off my hands
for twenty-five dollars? At this
point I just want to be rid of it.”
What have you got for sale? I ask.

Nora looks bemused.
“It is one those things,” she ventures
gesturing with her hands
“with the white on it…” She pauses
frowning into the distance. Then
she looks at me with purpose.
“I wonder if we might strike a bargain”
she says. “I’ll let you have it all
for twenty-five dollars.”
I smile at her.
My mother is in the bathroom
pushing against the wall
with her walker and determination.

Will you take a check? I ask Nora.
May I deposit it into your bank?
Nora stares at me, speechless.
“Well,” she says as my mother turns
to the other wall and tries to push it
into China. “I suppose
that might be all right.”
But she isn’t sure.

I wish that Nora were my mother.
I wish I could give her
twenty-five dollars to see
what she would do. I notice
my mother pushes her cart
against the wall just like
my old cat pushed herself
against the wall when she was
dying. Nora, I say to her,
I would like to strike a bargain.
For twenty-five dollars
will you take my mother
off my hands?

~~~~~~~~~~

This is my ticket on the Poetry Bus, taking its world tour this week. The Weaver of Grass told us to write about an unexplained incident. Or a person. I chose to write about three unexplained people: What is Nora up to? Why does my mother try to push through walls? And who am I, to offer my mother to a total stranger for 25 bucks? You'll find other bus riders here. Enjoy!

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