Conversation with Anas in Lewiston #1

by Myronn Hardy

There was no banter of palms
but I saw them beckoning above us.
Beckoning as snow fell outside.
I have lived in the place
that churned you
into the world.
Welcome to mine.
Yet I’m uneasy here.
You’ve learned some
of its unremitting tragedy
despite its gloss     its perpetual
dream.  I don’t know how to relearn
an untruth.
I refuse to lie.