She is wearing an impish green coat,
the collar turned up around her neck.
After several minutes I realise that we
are both staring at the lizard’s knees.
He clutches the branch with his tiny
feet and hands, leans back cockily.
“I’m a doctor,” she says, not to me
I realise. “It’s definitely weird.”
Who knows what is happening at the
other end of the telephone line.
The lizard’s knees are slim like a
witch’s cat and pointy like a witch’s hat.