Alec Solomita has published fiction in the Southword Journal, The Mississippi Review, Southwest Review, and The Adirondack Review, among other publications. He was shortlisted by the Bridport Prize and Southword Journal, and named a finalist by the Noctua Review. His poetry has appeared in Algebra of Owls, The Galway Review, The Lake, Literary Orphans, MockingHeart Review, and elsewhere. His poetry chapbook, ‘Do Not Forsake Me,’ was published by Finishing Line Press in 2017. He lives in Somerville, Massachusetts, USA.
Last evening over summer
drinks in my old friend’s kitchen, just
before dusk, I met his son’s girl. Now,
he’d been talking about this young
woman as if she were his own rare pearl
not his college boy’s first amour.
By his lights she could do no wrong.
But to do him justice,
he was never salacious in his praise,
“Lovely, funny, kind, frank,” nothing to raise
that particular eyebrow. He kind of fussed
over her like a doting grandma.
Sent me pictures of the couple by email.
And indeed, she is a dark-eyed dark-haired
beauty, I could see, but as my own dad
would say, pretty girls are a dime a dozen.
Then, last night, we dropped by for summer
drinks, and met in person this perfect wonder.
And she had a frank handshake, no question
about that. And her black eyes buzzed like black bees
when she laughed, and when she glanced at me
out of the corner of one, stronger than a memory
came a yearning so pure I thought I might fall.