capable of being. Even now, breasts filled out and dusky rose lipstick applied, he still has this conception of a son he never had, as if heâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s keeping it under glass. Or maybe under agate, flecked with mica. I could never remember what he tried to teach me about marbles. I could never remember which materials reveal and which materials occlude. A pane of glass can be a false transparency, the scene lying beyond it staged, an artifice. The Midwest is perhaps best defined as a museum exhibit.