On the frontier

We visit two brothers on the frontier. Trucks rattle their avenue and table. Bright skinny peppers burst out of the tiny white blossoms on their kitchen windowsill. We eat rum-filled chocolates shaped like half-barrels. We stare at the Boggle board and call out words that are there, and words that are almost there, save for a letter. There are two huge old-school frames on the wall, without paintings inside them. They seem to say to me, "Keep it between yourself."