By Adam Tedesco 


All black and white now
Beach step boys sat in bright color trunks
Air humming with wave, small body noise 
flap of matron strung sheets song 



Before I came here I had fits of missing you
that smoked away in trees of birding

Sailors thumb clamp nostrils 
to make American sounds
as we spoke outside the brothel
staggered stop along the winestreet


Divine brothers cracked smiles
unshuttered the wooden café where
grey beard bards stooled at postage doors
on grey uphills where Lesser-Black Gulls stilled

I learned to dream in other languages 
then forgot the shape of your face


Mother called to say be glad you're gone
Everything got rotten here this summer

Adam Tedesco has worked as a shipbuilder, a meditation instructor, a telephone technician and cultural critic for the now disbanded Maoist Internationalist Movement. He is a contributing editor to the online literary journal Drunk In A Midnight Choir. His work has appeared in Creative Nonfiction, Pine Hills Review, Similar:Peaks::, dcomP and elsewhere. He lives in Albany, New York with his wife and two children. 

© 2015