From 'the Double'. Poem by Morgan Michaels

to his second. This described Geronimo. He was sitting in a threadbare easy chair beside the bed, his lower half covered with a sheet, his legs poking from sheet to floor. Miggi heard him wheezing through the screen door. He went in. It was dark in the little room, because the sun had not reached Geronimo's end of the bluff. The two faced each other, one old and grizzled, the other young and out-lined with light.

'Is that you, dear', rasped Geronimo, squinting.

Clearly, Geronimo could not see well but that wasn't his only shortcoming, now. His gaze passed through Miggi, unseeingly, and seemed to direct itself through the dirty window and into the sky, beyond.

Miggi saw that Geronimo's eyes observed only the phantasms of his brain and he was embarrassed. Otherwise, the old man's eyes looked like old man's eyes.

'No, sir', he replied, quietly, 'it's not'.

He had an almost superstitious dread of interrupting a dream.

'It's me- your doctor', he continued. 'I've come to see you. How'y'doin'?

'I am glad to see you', smiled Geronimo. 'Where have you been'?

An uncomfortable pause followed. Miggi shifted uneasily.He didn't know who Geronimo was addressing- his doctor or his long-dead wife.

'Senor'.

'Yes, m'am', rasped Geronimo. My eyesight is bad, lately. I am sorry'.

Geronimo's dream had an audio, evidently.

'Senor'! said Miggi, again, a little louder.

'What is that red dog doing, say'?

'Senor Geronimo, it's me. I've come to see you'.

'Tell those children to stop...'

Miggi took a step forward and put a hand on Geronimo's arm.

Suddenly, he rallied, and became perfectly alert. His reverie slid from him like a sheet and he struggled up, creakily, smiled genially and yawned, revealing toothless gums.

'Mi doctor', he exclaimed, instantly ceremonious. He made a shallow bow and clasped both hands together in front of him.


'Bienvedido! Bienvedido a mi casa! Why didn't you say it was you'?