What’s faux? Tutto! The plastic chairs,
the fact that we’re in Rome (New York),
the piece of pipe protruding from
the fountain’s mouth—a Zeus instead
of Jupiter. Sounds: Lara’s Theme
and Eine Kleine Nacht-Musak.
The presence of the motley crew
of army personnel and bikers and
a nun and both of us,
who float and speculate, defines
the word “motel”, belies the term “estate.”
But water’s never false, or stone.
The heart of this Venetian pool
is true, eternal stuff of earth
that builders always use despite
the final shape or thoughtless frill.
Depend on Zeus’s spray, not Zeus,
and pad along the stones but not the path.
Let’s sit upon the grass behind the hedge
without regret or calculated dreams,
and fashion a foundation for our souls.
Paul Lamar lives with his husband, Mark, in Albany, NY, where he teaches, reviews theater for a local paper, and conducts a chorus. His work has appeared in Bloodroot, Steam Ticket, Main Street Rag, The Southern Review, Prairie Schooner, among others.
