Length, Turn, Length

Dec 30 2019

The lifeguards at the community pool

are hovering about the pretty blonde

like moths to the flame.

Teenage boys,

at an age when they're also on fire.

So today, the swimmers are on their own.

She is tall, and tan, and lithe

but oddly unsure of herself,

her sexual power

her youthful allure.

I am old, but still remember

just how it felt,

the heat

the doubt

the desire.

But feel, as well

an unbecoming envy

the angst of loss.

Length, turn, length,

attending to circular breathing

my shoulder slot

the steady kick.

And each time I turn my head

catching a glimpse of the deck

through fogged-up plastic lenses.

A chance observer

of the human heart.

If not an anthropologist from Mars

then from an older generation,

keeping his distance

but perhaps not far enough.

Up and down the pool

trying hard to repeat my stroke,

watching length after length 
as life replays itself.