A man in a mask and wearing a fat tank on his back is bent to the door of the
          parking garage.
He is spraying and wiping, wiping and spraying. Another man with no mask
          and no hair shuffle-dances around him,
gives a wave, crosses the street, tries to open the door to the hotel, which is
          locked and closed, darkened for good:

Out of the darkness, men come 
     with knives. They work quickly, 
muttering back and forth. 

My father naked in the photo, young
again, crouched among rocks and water. It's an island,
a time so long ago he is thin,