bathers...

Bathers (1950) by George Tooker
Magpie Tales #277


on my way to some fragile nirvana
(fragile 
because it was just
a desperate quirk of
my mind)
I found the scents of the sea

strangely
I expected to be alone
wanted to be alone
but
there were others
just like me

at least some were
(ahem...
two were)

they stood
towelled and capped
in some frozen expectation
of an instruction
(perhaps a command)
to move forward

like handmaids
going through the predictions
of a tale

I sidled in line
unaware of another door
where one
sculpted body
appeared to be casually drying
herself

unaware
that my entrance
and her exit
were zagged
mirrored
underbelly
opposites

but
I stood in tight-lipped silence
until
a dark moment
turned
my silence
into
fear

of being
closely
watched

closely
monitored


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