A white crib, with a homemade, knitted blanket
of green and blue yarn draped over the side.

On a table, baby onesies in disarray—
folded, picked up, and haphazardly put back down.

In the grass underneath, all the essentials of an infant—
bottles, binkies, and an open pack of diapers with just a few removed.

On another table, clothes meant for a little boy,
strewn about in the same fashion as the other table—

A New York Giants t-shirt, a pair of jeans, little Nike shoes.
A baseball cap, slightly used. A button up shirt with the tag still on it.

“I’m a ladies man.” A t-shirt reads.
“My mom is cooler than yours!” Another.

A box in the grass, its contents spilling over—
Toys. Stuffed animals.

Tonka trucks, Hot Wheels, Legos—still in their boxes.
Unopened.

To the farthest corner of the yard, a racecar bed
stripped of its sheets.

In some other direction, a man speaks to a curious woman—
“He was only two years old.”