The Swim

Trudge through the heavy chlorinated air.
Breathe in
And sear your nostrils.
Feel its weight crush your lungs
Like the smothering
Steam from the showers.
Slog through with soppy soaking soles
Under the watchful gaze of stooped, wrinkled men.
Their sagging skin, surprisingly, show no stitches.
(From the look of things, you'd think they should)

Leave your bag by the bleachers,
It'll be there when you get back.
Lift your shirt above your head
And toss it aside.
Unfold your fuzzy towel
And toss it aside.
Pull your drawstring tight
And stand at the edge ready for the leap of faith.

The frigid air makes your skin harden.
Inch forward with caution and toe the surface
But don't back away.
Don't fear it.
Instead look deep.
See it shimmer and bob,
Waiting to grab at your ankles and
Drag you down to the depths where
It's too deep to swim
Too hard to break through to the surface.

Just take a breath, count to three
And toss it all aside.
Let yourself go.
Let yourself fall.
Let yourself sink.
Deep.
Deeper.
Claw at the fire-ants devouring your eyes.
Breathe out
Then escape with graceful flowing liberating strokes.