We return to the Grand Pacific Hotelin Suva, Fiji, but it is not the way itwas or what we thought it was:the cold lobster almost as big asa pork roast in the garden by the Pacific,the moon floating on the waves asyellow as mango then you and Brianoff to see the cava ceremony For MenOnly, while I remained and read Camus,and now we stoop arthritically to pickthe fallen frangipani blossoms at therusting front gate and put a honey-fragrant bud behind each other’s earthe way we did then. No one has enteredor exited the open-air opulent lobbywhich I can see is still tiled in big blackand white checkerboard squares likeLeslie’s café on Facebook Café World,but you say, I want to go inside, so,frangipani still behind your ear, you gowhile I wait by the fragrant tree besideour white Hertz Toyota. Quicker thana tropical fish darting for food, you returnand I see that you are blushing. A youngFijian man made a pass at me, you say,horrified. We laugh as I ask, Was he cute?
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Photo by Vijeshwar Datt on Unsplash