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white picket fences spike sharp edged gardens full blown roses follow upright tulips a serpentine hose dribbles across grass you can see through a window no-one is watching tv but it doesn’t shut up blurred figures fight there are gunshots while mother quickly tidies up clears dishes from the table puts last night’s chop bones into the bin pours pink detergent in the sink so the peanut butter jars will sparkle by the time Dennis parks his truck a tray will be laid his slippers arranged in front of the chair the cat is warming Channel 7 news will be on his lunch time visit to Mrs Brody’s blue velvet rooms – upstairs in the local pub – will have soothed his nerves given him an appetite for Friday’s meal of leftovers and a stubby or five he can settle in without even switching channels or wondering what mother did today.