Memo Cycle

The old man from lane two - 

I can't tell his name from one sign in scribble to the next 

- stopped me in the shower.

Can you believe it, she nearly fucking drowned, she just jumped right in

the deep end, she said she could swim, but you don't ever forget

how to swim, do you?

I saw her talking to the lifeguard, I assumed they were friends, didn't

realise she was being saved, showed no obvious sign of wear

in the shallow end as I left,

 

Voice memos might be my way back into conversation, because

if people can show up at the pool, one quiet Friday morning,

and just launch themselves in, well whatever else are our

wonderful minds not taking in or putting out.

What is unacknowledged in our immediate safety and our words?

Some might say this is not fair, I can no more easily take you

to task over an email than a five minute recorded monologue,

but now I can speak my words into a balloon

and before it bursts, tie it off and add string,

let it float away, to perhaps find itself swirling above a pool,

where it might be needed.