“Where is he—you know, the . . . one?”
my ninety-year-old friend asked
and I knew that she meant her son—

 

Afterwards I said the palm tree was like a snake
coiling around the delicate outdoor bannister
but Janette said like a swan courting a swan.

So much about the place was lies.
The marble walls that were wood.
The stone grillwork, like coral.