Artie By Maryna Ajaja At the Veterans Hospital on Beacon Hill flatlines his future. Nurse Betty yells at my father’s roommate, You’re going down that road. Pajama bottoms! Pajama bottoms! Can’t go around this hospital without pajama bottoms. Do you want to avoid it? Or are you ready to go? Artie vows to stay alive until the Vargas vs. De La Hoya fight. My dying father talks about money. Life without it. Life getting it. On Independence Day Bane of his life not having it. he has a one-night furlough What good would it do now? under the pink vaulted ceiling I see the writing on the wall, of his Soundview condo. is his final cliché, Home for a final sunbath. pronounced under a clock A last smell of jasmine. and Water Lilies by Monet. Did he dream of Brooklyn or the Coral Sea? His last sage advice: Did he dream of wife May, Always cash your checks immediately. dearly departed before him? Artie was never pretentious The lantsman down the hall but impressed by pretense. His doctor, a Dr. Lord, 38 greets Artie on his return from liberty. What do you have there? he asks.