House-bound she doesn't speak and so he in tones flat as pressed flowers wonders aloud at the changes in Lilly
At 5:00 he buttons himself into his jacket and before leaving takes a last look back and wrinkles his brow in an effort of memory
Memory fertile and seeded like rain-clouds in April by whatever spirits had come to live in this house to give him to himself revealing easy familiarity
Getting off the subway he follows his strange tastes in spirits and landscapes and finally pausing the stuff of life postponed he asks someone the way...
