Man Down

I saw him fall

Down to the ground

Crumpling into the cold, wet snow

As I was getting ready

To pull out of the parking lot.

I saw him fall

Through the passenger window

Smeared in chalky road salt.

I stopped the car and got out.

It was slippery

And the snow was deeper

Where he lay.

“Are you alright?”

I asked.

He just looked up at me

Defeated eyes glazed with tears.

“Jeezus...Are you alright?”

Nothing.

I said

“Here, let me help you up.”

He was an old man

And his black cane lay beside him

Buried in white.

He was bigger than me

And I couldn’t get him up by myself...

He was dead weight

I had to leave him wrecked in the snow.

I felt terrible.

“Old Man, I’m calling 911.”

My car was still running

Beside us

With the door open

Chiming.

I sat with him as I spoke

To a distant, removed voice

On the other end of the phone.

“Old Man, I’ve got someone coming to help.”

With that

Another car pulled up

And a man and a woman

Got out to give a hand.

I told them what happened

And she was immediately

Motherly

Calling him

“Sweetie” and “Honey”

Asking him if he was okay.

The other guy and myself

Proceeded to try to get the Old Man

To his feet.

He was such terrific dead weight

Like heavy sandbags

That we were struggling

And I was starting to wonder

If this was such a good idea or not.

What if he fell again?

What if his legs were messed up?

The Old Man was responding

To the woman’s soft talk.

“I was trying to go to McDonalds.”

He said with snot dripping down his nose.

“I knew it was a bad idea when I started.”

“You shouldn’t be out here silly!”

Exclaimed the woman

Rightfully so.

Then the paramedics arrived

And it took three of us

To get him off of the ground.

He stood there wobbling

With us holding onto him.

His glass eyes were wet and damp.

“I was trying to go to McDonalds.”

His hand was violently shaking and discolored

From being pressed into the cold snow

For some time.

His knees were still bent and unuseful.

“I knew it was a bad idea when I started.”

“Can you take me to McDonalds?”

He looked at the paramedic.

The paramedic told him that he should

Go to the hospital to get checked out.

The Old Man was a little hesitant.

“Are your legs always like this?”

The paramedic asked.

“What about your hand?”

The man didn’t answer.

He didn’t stop shaking either.

The other man and his woman

And myself

All tried to tell him that it was a good idea

To go to the hospital.

“I’ll bet you can get a good, hot cup of coffee there.”

I said.

Nothing.

“I’ll bet he’s right. You can get a good, hot cup of coffee if you go to the hospital Sweetie.”

And he listened to her

With her sweet, sugary, motherly voice

And he heard just what he wanted to hear.

And he said

“Sure, I’ll go to the hospital and get checked out.”

And I watched as they loaded his huge

Cumbersome frame onto a gurney

And wheeled him through

The slush and snow

To the awaiting ambulance

Knowing that he will never recall my presence

Or my voice whatsoever.