Morning by the Pool
People lying around,
we know each other.
I dive into the water near the pool track
that the instructor’s swimming on the right
and the edge on the left.
My eyes are closed while I swim,
opening slightly from time to time.
Everything is soft and blurry.
I swim very slowly.
I feel him swimming,
I graze the edge here and there.
As I turn around and see a hand
catching up with me at the end of the pool,
gentle in the water,
almost as if it’s about to touch me.
I switch tracks
so that I’m now slightly
into the other half of the pool,
I swim faster, we’re racing.
Suddenly, the water turns into hard,
tightly packed, foil-wrapped
rectangular packets – texts?
I climb them furiously,
there’s music and it feels good,
the packets are now small, folded-over
pieces of paper, written on and bobbing in the water,
my body bobs with them, through them –
He sits at the end of the pool,
leaning on his forearms,
exposing his midriff to the sun,
his feet among the pieces of paper.
I climb on top of him,
I lean on his large torso,
the water is now full of pieces of foil
with sticker letters.
Letters come together on one of them,
we know what it says and we smile.
I start putting stickers on his chest:
I have to look for some of the letters
they’re all at a hand’s reach.