placid words (thoughts disintegrate)
  on the kitchen floor
as her body, on the floor 
               spread thin
nothing to hide the noise
nothing to take the fear
shadows dancing, caught 
her eye
outside temperatures
    fry her golden brain
like the eggs she ate 
for Friday's breakfast   
     as i sit, silently, 
patiently
   outside-
all that    fills the air
  is his guitar and the graceful 
           sound of the river
water making way downstream
full of August sunsets 
and dead dreams