“How is your English?”

Maria kneels on the floor

elbow-deep in an ice chest

white collared shirt, black vest

    she glances up

to let me know it’s me

she’s talking to

Andre stands next to Maria

    arranging champagne flutes 
I say “My English is fine.”

Maria sighs, hands me a tray

says “you serve food tonight,

Andre and I do drinks.”
big house at a Northwood address

Roman columns out front, triple garage below,

pool out back, koi pond as you walk through

the front gate

close to the bay, so I try to

picture the view from the

upstairs balcony

the hostess, Mimi,

is a tall, thin, dark-haired woman

the skin ‘round her eyes and mouth

plumped and pulled taut

by surgery. Difficult to say

if she’s in her 40s, 50s or 60s
her husband Gus

is an investment banker

every year, around Christmas

he throws a little get-together

for his clients. I thought it polite to tell her

she has a lovely house

Mimi cocks her head

wide unfeeling eyes

looking right through me

hollow voice

cadent with pity and curiosity

she answers “I do, don’t I?”

    I smile and continue to move

empty wine boxes out of the living room
sent downstairs to the garage

where the caterers had set up

Tom wore glasses, hair cropped close to his head

has the kind of smile which makes me forget

I have a boyfriend waiting for me at home
Nate was the chattier of the two

asks me what high school I went to

“Macquarie Fields High”

“Is that Campbelltown way?”

“That’s right.”

“We drove through once on the way to a job. Picked up

fuel where there’s a KFC next to a Maccas.”

tell’em they’d found the hottest spot in Mac Fields

Tom laughs, makes me blush

wasn’t even joking. Anyone from Mac Fields

would tell you it’s the truth