In which the poet confesses a love too real

In words too plain

In which he recalls a social services waiting room,

stolen star wars action figures therein.

In which he laments his inability to time travel

In which he records his voice for his father imprisoned,

whom never relates the conditions thereof.

In which he boasts his ability to perfectly love rabbits

to her, whom he considers a perfect rabbit.

In which the poet attempts to strangle his heart shut

as it bleeds out into his words.

In which he confuses himself for Tom Petty

In which his father hangs a Skip Barber poster

while the poet sleeps on the floor of his office,

drinking tea and reading sutras beforehand

In which his child dies

In which the child’s mother sleeps with his best friend

while he spends three months in Spain learning to drink,

learning to dream in new languages.

In which his next lover shreds his passport

In which he performs yard work in exchange for drugs hard and soft

In which the FBI kicks the door in on the poet at six years old

In which a female FBI agent tucks the poet into bed

In which he holds his children and sings

In which he loves too much

In which he confesses he can’t stop

He is lost.

—Adam Tedesco

Adam Tedesco has been reading and writing poetry for a long time. Some of his poems and criticism have been published. He once ran to the top of the tallest building between Manhattan and Montreal. His lungs turned black.