Trapped for Jennifer the third floor of the rest home is for the living dead old, shriveled, spoon feed yellowish mush except my friend who still has color in her hair and a son in college although she says no she has no son and no, she shakes her head, she has no husband I wheel her around the floor to see the African Grey parrot he won’t talk that day--- walks his bar back and forth back and forth I ask my friend what she wants a Coke, ice cream, popcorn? I want my mother I want my father Why did I ask her for what I cannot give now she names her sisters -- Elizabeth, Mary Rose, Catherine as she talks the aide appears and scolds, clear you throat, speak up my friend’s eyes tighten, her body tenses under the white robe I feel her fear or is it anger I touch her arm If only she knew nothing at all I leave having no idea about anything I am not heartbroken just numb—so I turn as I leave and hate the trimmed bushes the organized flowers the pretentious oversized door awnings wealth trappings covering the unbearable