by Seth Amos I like summer for peaches, not for humid, breezeless days. July 28, 2019, 11:10 a.m.,Brooklyn, I ate one.Eating a peach requires planningor rogue carelessness.I ate this one over the sink,shirtless, waitingfor the coffee to percolate.My teeth pierced its cropped fuzzand perfumed flesh. Juice camelike a watering mouth, drippingdown my arm and plunkingintoContinue reading “Summer for Peaches”
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