I look down at my toe

disgusting thing, although

it joggles a pleasant memory

my husband, before his death

despite his Parkinson’s

shaking head

his delight, surrounded by giggling girls,

the deer-in-the-headlight

fear in his eyes

briefly replaced by what?

Lust, memories

perhaps of a youthful

paramour, remembered sighs?

When I could no longer trim

his thickened nails that taunted him

my friend said “don’t fool with it

take him where

they have tools for it”

Thus, after our trip to the

Apple store

where geniuses seemed to want

to help him more than their mostly

younger clientele

we walked back to the parking lot

where a manicure salon reached out

pulled me in and I pulled him

no other customers in the store

I never frequented places like those

rarely manicured fingers or toes

a mountains and garden gal,

I relished mud between my toes

and besides, my nose

rebelled at the chemical smells

that filled those places

A young woman asked me what I

would like, probably assumed Fred

would leave, busy himself at a

restaurant, store,

or maybe

the library

almost next door

But I pointed to his sandaled feet

size ten to match his 6-2 height

which wasn’t his size any more

stooped, twisted neck, face forced toward the floor

suddenly all the girls gathered round him

smiled, giggled again, and showed him

to a chair and Fred obeyed

and grinned at them

But among the smiles one face was cross

An old woman stared, perhaps the boss,

Gave me a glare, pointed at my feet so

I nodded, sure, as she hustled me

to a chair,

then pulled out her stool

and what looked like

a very dangerous tool

I soaked and watched the fun

young women flirting with Fred

He, happy as a clam

or maybe a knight, a ladies man

pampered and bathed, perhaps he imagined

girlish hearts

being won

I closed my eyes, soothed by the soak until

I awoke with a gasp of pain

water turned red with the nip of her implement

I swear that old woman had an evil grin

but I apologized

did not want my predicament

to spoil his fun

assured them all

I was ok as she applied some herb

and Fred maintained his goofy smile

and mollified, I hid the pain

Then I waylaid a laughing attendant

whispered my plan and she

conveyed to the rest my bequest

and by the time we left

Fred was enchanted by the happy

face painted on his big toenail

No longer depressed, a happy male

That’s the day the fungus found

my big toe

but oh

I’d let that old woman repeat her crime if

I could see

Fred’s happy faces

one more time