Aspirin Dust 

The aspirin dust coats her eyes

Her breathing is deep down

Full

A basket of fruit

A pitcher of pink lemonade

On a blue Formica kitchen table

Out the window

The sweet green hills of memory.

The dog, through half open eyes, stands in

The doorway, watching

Down the hall

The television

Set in its place

Plays to an empty room

Iced tea and thick pretzels

Wait

On the coffee table.

He never sang after that

He smiled at nothing

In particular

He mowed the lawn

And mowed it again

He raked the leaves

And raked them again