Fictional Memory

We were talking about place,
Bill and I, and I turned
and said, "Not only that--
but in a bookstore in Boulder,
Lisa turned to me and said
of the Nobel laureate Zagreb
that since leaving his village
there had been an icy,
shattered spot in his chest.
A sense of disintegration."
"Uh huh," said Bill. "You’ll
have to do better than that."
"I am telling you," I said,
"it’s as clear as yesterday.
I recall nothing specific as to
countryóit was about
house, neighborhood, it seems to me."
"Something lost, or maybe gained,
in translation, I suppose?"
"There may have been some
mention of a garden. Roses."