Career-time, twenty-nine, roof-tiling,
learning Spanish from "mis amigos/ my
pals," but the film-impulse won't disappear,
"Look at that old couple, they must be
Czech...Russian..and all that long white hair,
and his beard...you could make a
film right here, documentary turned into
fantasy...," a tall Taiwanese/Korean babe
walks by, four-inch heels, black tights, a
skirt half an inch long, "You know, Peking/
Beijing looks just like L.A. nowadays,
L.A.-ish, Chicago-ish...and those legs...
a little Chopin in the background...,"
a mother with three children, the second
youngest in a stroller, the youngest
in her arms, the little rotund blond boy
walking, "A little Debussy in the background,
maybe a little poetry overlay, something
Sanity is three,
no suicide bomb
but a thriving Mom..,"
the next day back on the roof,
"Estoy aprendiendo bastante,/ I'm
learning a lot," then a Western Michigan
University catalogue, "So what's up?,"
"Film courses," "You never know,"
a Brazilian M.D. stepmother who so far
has never said NO to anything that
looks like a stairway up off the roof
to the top-of-the-house
Hugh Fox is a poet, novelist, playwright, and archeologist, and
onetime Latin American editor of North American Review.