They say you can write anywhere…

The soccer camp my son was supposed to attend this week was cancelled (who knew soccer players were less reliable than writers?), so I ended up at Hillcrest Pool yesterday. Which was not a bad alternative to working, really.

Here are some thoughts from the pool:

The Old Men Diving
From the whirlpool
at public swim
I watch the old men dive.
Each climbs the stairs with care,
hand on the rail,
then steps to the edge
and waits.

One man bows slightly before each dive,
as if a line of invisible judges
watches, perfect tens in hand.
Then he plummets into the water
with a world-class splash.

One man has six-pack abs beneath
his wrinkles.

I wish I were an Olympic diver.
I could climb the stairs
and slice through the air,
slide into my reflection
and emerge to their amazement.

But maybe they would be disappointed
as their own perfect images —
bouncing slighty on their heels,
poised to slip into remembered lives —
were shattered by my splash-free dive.

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