The barking dog the neighbors can't see,
The baby without a name cries plaintively.
The 5 oclock movie plays to an empty house,
Monday's toast still resides on Tuesday's tray.
Yesterday's news papers the driveway.
Car keys fall unnoticed, beneath dozens of feet,
The front door left wide open, no one to greet.
A portable radio abandoned on a park bench,
Circling the well lit house for signs of life.
The flat tire on the car you left for your pregnant wife.
Canned trumpets serenade an unattended coffin,
Rain races in the kitchen windows left open too often,
Cut flowers left on the counter to wilt and dry.
A perfect poker hand gathers dust in the kitchen
Wisteria chokes a rusted hearse covered with lichen.
A frail older women sits by an open window,
counting the pills she's emptied into her lap,
as though she plans to take all of them.
She turns, responding to the sudden burst of
children laughing and playing; the pills slip off her lap,
scattering to the far corners of the room.