The wave is the way
a dance makes water stay;
a laugh that walks through hills
astray. The path that laid the course,
now still.

But again, it breaks! With arms
and flailing legs they spray
and spatter it about on the
hot concrete. They spit and
shout and jump and swim
and ****** my way
a million little knives that cut
the sun, it hurts my eyes.
They laugh
a laugh that sinks the drowning
and smothers their voice with cold wrinkly fingers
so they quit singing,
begin mouthing.

Go jump in, you silly goose!
You’re supposed to swim in swimming pools!
Here, grab a towel and some slippers too.

I walk along the spots of wet,
left by those who were soaked and drenched
as they came and went, came and went.
The waves they made were sloppy, yes
but smiles, too, can be like this.

So I don’t know why
my toes gripped the edge when
my eyes saw me in my clear reflection.