He holds his mother in his arms.
He takes her everywhere.
He’s unaware that this alarms.
To others, she’s not there.
She asks him, “Billy, am I dead?”
She always calls him Billy.
All she had done was go to bed.
She finds the notion silly.
At first the only way I could think to ennoble the three pics I feature in this nonet of the desultory stash of Salad Ingredients I recently bought at Key Food on Avenue A (every item chosen because Cheapest) was to feature my mother's framed pen & ink Avon Lake Amityville ducks in back of the two salad stuff on bowl & plate pics - sweet little suggestion of narrative perhaps: look! the duckies are waddling toward the chick peas! In a pinch you can always count on my mother's ducks.