Monday, November 7, 2016

Timothy Edmond #7



We took the train to
Harlem.
                We walked to the
beach to see the
sculpture in the
wild dunes.
Linda had a key to
one of the houses
a few blocks from
the sea.
                Once inside Steven
rolled a joint and
obliged us to smoke
somehow violating
the place.
                We went to a
restaurant overly
collectively run
back near the beach.
It was mussel season.
We worked our way
through a mountain
of mussels.
                This was the turning
of the season.
                We were still rugged up
seeing the Sun through
glass that housed us.

2 comments:

  1. Terrific, Timothy. Always on the edge.

    ReplyDelete
  2. you poor bastard - having to smoke a joint
    ... there are limits to expat sympathy ya know

    ReplyDelete

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