Poem of the Week 03/27/18
Leaning back in the hot, bubbling water,
he looks at me with steamy eyes,
his face flushed, his hair wild
and curled like Gabinius.
“I admire you,” he says,
“So many people don’t come down
to the pool, but you do.”
“You are an inspiration.”
Really?, I murmur.
Thank you for nothing. Thank you
for lacking the facts. Thank you
for ignoring my questions regarding
the locker room renovation. Thank you
for replying to my email with
WHO ARE YOU?
Thanks for doing the little scuttle dance
when I try to speak to you,
for your condescension
wrapped in bonhomie.
I turn to walk away
over the perforated plastic mats
at the edge of the indoor pool,
the sun barely making it out
of the scrim of winter clouds,
and I wonder if the lifeguard
is going to open the door for me.
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