the swimmer
floating in the lake beside me
she dove in blue and brown
she stroked her arms through memory
the chlorine crackle of an eight-year-old
first time a-swim with a girl
her eyelashes glued and gleamed
like trapezoidal mirrors
and ever since that boyhood crawl
I’d wonder whether, were I to add water
a girl would shatter in kaleidoscopic blather
but as I swam beside that graceful woman
who’d pried that memory free from me
I saw to my delight her turquoise eyeliner
stayed unblurred despite immersion
her hair became lasagna pasta
and it made me very hungry
ovals of heat and cold the size of squids
would bubble up to gulp our legs
the ice of peaks who’d tumbled down
to join with solar-powered pressure
and I wished that we were naked
so I could wrap myself around her
warm and cool like the water
I wished I could strip off her dripping clothes
melt into her like rock candy
lick dulce de leche from her nipples
press breath and tongue into her heart and mouth
dissolve with her into one glistening dolphin
leaping and wriggling our flukes in the sun
but damn it all I’m a perfect gentleman
I’m what a swimmer needs
a floatie, a strong wind
a kind voice, a strong friend
so instead I swam beside the prison wall
and told myself after all she and I are not gods
we have no right to combine our lives
we cannot become a hawk or turkey vulture
we cannot kite the wind
we can only look at each other
and care with all our blood
like a dozen red flags snapping in the wind
laced to their poles
we could move but we were tied
to those moments in the lake
we disentangled from the water
and rode our separate ways
but the lake did not release us
the sun still wanted more
as summer dawns again I hear the finch trill for her mate
I see the diffuse ribbon of smog in the west pick up the sun above the hills
the breeze through my bedroom window sings to me
that beautiful swimmer is awake
I hear the breeze whisper on her skin
and I know
how happy she is
that she wakes in the same world
the same lake as me