There is an overwhelming amount of danger in his eyes. And there is something not quite right about the whistle around his neck. Lifeguards are meant to save lives. To care for those who cannot care for themselves because we all need a little help sometimes.  But he never took the help, and to this day he will kiss you so hard your childhood memories will surface to the top of the ocean inside you.  
Because his song is algae growing at the bottom of the ocean and you must drown just to listen to it. And as your screaming surfaces, no one hears your struggle because he is the only lifeguard. With that whistle around his neck.
It’s almost as hollow as he is.
But when I came to Rose Mary in the fall I didn’t know that. Maybe I would have in the summer, but as the seasons remind me I must keep changing, he always stayed behind. The lifeguard that spent all day under the sweltering sun remained cool as ice. Maybe even cooler.
But this isn’t about him. It isn’t about me. This is about the people who are as hollow as the bottles we drink. Because we don’t ask each other how our hearts are anymore.  And I have to sleep with a nightlight on because the darkness reminds me too much of the bottom of the pool in Rose Mary that resembles the outside corners of his dangerous eyes.