That Final Wisdom

My father won’t drink water.After the Dixie cupfulthey make him takewith his meds,he’s done for the day.A visiting nurse,seeing the viscous,bourbon-color liquidin the plastic portable urinal he keeps by the bed said,Mr. O, you gotta drink or you’re gonna die.

What he’s not telling us isit hurts to pee and he thinks ifnothing goes in, nothingwill have to come out.The Buddha said,Let all the flesh and blood of my body dry up.I welcome it!But I will not move until I attain that final wisdom.My father’s body thinks otherwise;his urethra shrinks to the width of a pin.

Slams cold enlightenment.