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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