Part 1: The Peach I walked away uncertainly, thinking “I guess that was that.” I returned to the rental car of our recklessness and contemplatively began eating the peach (actually a nectarine) you gave me. Ripe and spectacular as those of the NC foothills, where we both chopped away our thick roots years ago the peach burst its clear juices down my chin and arm. Leaning out of the car so I wouldn’t drip on the velour, I captured those escaping beads unwilling to let their nourishment be lost I finished the peach with a slurp throwing the pit into the bushes. I would tell you later how I may have planted a peach sapling (like the peach trees that grow, unappreciated and unfertilized, in landfills) in the state of NY in commemoration of our fruitful affair.