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His eyes are closed, his breathing's shallow.

He brought our newspapers in when we went out of town. 

Every time he mowed his lawn he mowed ours too. 

My parents say he's the salt of the earth

My parents are here to pay their last respects. 

When I was 15 he tried to kiss me, and tried to put his hand down my pants

I never told anybody.

I didn’t come here out of respect.  

There’s something I want to say but I’m not sure why.  

My parents are chatting with the soon-to-be widow in the living room.

She prattles on about her recipe for zucchini bread.

His eyes are closed, his breathing's shallow.

He and I are alone in another room.

My dad is telling Soon-to-be about a banana bread recipe with cardamom

I'm looking into his gray and yellow face.   

I’m lost in the whiteness of a pillow.

He and I are alone.

My parents are smacking away on homemade zucchini bread.

I'm wondering why I'm here.

I don’t believe in an afterlife, but I'm not sure why.  

I hear Soon-to-be saying she grows her own zucchini, right out there in her garden

My parents respond as if her touch redeemed the soil

My parents are paying their last respects to a man who put his hand down their daughter’s pants. 

They say he's the salt of the earth. 

My parents don’t believe in an afterlife.

His eyes are closed, his breathing's shallow.

He and I are alone.  

I'm looking into his gray and yellow face.   

I’m whispering “I forgive you”, but I’m not sure  why.

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