She had heard the news in the post office. Two women were talking and she picked up one of them saying something like, ‘— Yes, Robert Frost and Wallace Stevens, right here, can you believe it?’ She listened some more but they started gossiping about church matters so she had to interrupt.

Excuse me. Did I hear you say? Yes, they told her, both these great poets – by uncanny coincidence – were staying at the Casa Marina Resort Hotel on Reynolds Street.

She walked out of the post office in something of a breathless stir – excited, almost as if she were a little girl. Frost and Stevens – here. She liked Frost but she revered Stevens. She cycled slowly along Flagler Avenue until she could see the red roofs of the hotel rising above the palm trees.

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