At the pool
On these hot summer days she splashes in the shallow end. Warm sprinkles leap and dance, but no one else gets wet. Her feet remain on the bottom. When it gets too hot she reclines against the wall, feeling the concrete rough against her legs, and lets the water lap over her.
The deep end is filled with large shapes hungry for baby-tender meat. She won't turn her back on it. She knows that one day she will have to go out there.
On the pool deck she wraps her wrap and puts on her big sunglasses, fashion being the meringue of personality, a way to explore the self without abject terror, revealing only what she wants to be seen.
The deep end is filled with large shapes hungry for baby-tender meat. She won't turn her back on it. She knows that one day she will have to go out there.
On the pool deck she wraps her wrap and puts on her big sunglasses, fashion being the meringue of personality, a way to explore the self without abject terror, revealing only what she wants to be seen.
posted by JMH | 9:35 PM
3 Comments:
"... fashion being the meringue of personality..."
You sir, are a master.
One problem with living in a place where summer is so long is that it loses its magic.
sybil - there's only one joke you can make with the word "master," and I'm not about to do it.
Chris - yeah, I like my seasons. But Louisiana, man, I like that too.
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