You tell me you wish to pay me back for those dinners out when you were in school surviving on macaroni and cheese.
You offer me a trip to Paris as reimbursement for the down payment on the used car that burst its radiator as you drove off the lot.
But all I really want is for you to inspect the bruises I develop in the nursing home and make sure they aren’t suspicious, to come and read to me so I hear something other than my ghosts from the past, to make sure they change both the sheets and my diapers.
I only ask that you help keep the flies from my eyes.
Michael Eaton
Before completing school, decided to go to San Francisco State University. Moved there, and became a hippie living in a commune until graduation with a Masters in Creative Writing. Then came back to Austin and became partners in a stained-glass studio, a business in which my eldest son is still involved in Houston.
Recently have just completed conducting two poetry classes in assisted living centers for the elderly in Austin and Wimberley.
I write poetry to stay sane in an insane world and currently have 28 published poems.
