Rob S. Friedman

July/August 2022

Jones Beach

Reaching the heat-hazed noise of the Southern State with baby oil shellac reeking flinching with each reminder of car rules, no sand on the blanket, ten steps from the water all that dissipated with my turn in the marine green blue surrounding my mother surrounding me as we bobbed with the rolling Atlantic swells her tensioned voice lost to a soothing lullaby.

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