52 SONGS

...the letter killeth, but the spirit giveth life...

Tuesday, April 8, 2014

35. "The water park arrives before the car"

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The waterpark arrives before the car
on asphalt riven by cracks made in part
by water, and time. Our fee paid and
stripping, admitting all error, heat
we wish to flee and weight, the other
two parts in lot erosion, are by our entrance
affirmed and relieved. Cars don’t convey us.

The road’s made smooth to hide distance,
ramps point the way in work our vehicle
co-undertakes thoughtlessly, without
complaint. Similar the slide, the wait
on stairs, wood structure thrumming
under thumping feet and swayed in wind,
in earthquake country, and in shadows
of landings the breeze brings change
on skin pinned in place by knotty spines.
At the top a mouth awaits, inhaling its slick,
endless deluge. You have no choice.

The stairs there were made for your feet,
this throat to take you in and pass you through
dark passage into a pool of fumey water,
to where your son has already gone, waiting
below. We are here because the structure
of conveyance was made, I don’t say lightly,
for you and me and the boys requesting the trip.

Womb and body are metaphors easy enough.
Women bodies men and boys and little girls,
their ill-fitting suits cartographing the skin
that is with light beautiful shattered into
small, fleeting dots and points, then broadened
when on dry skin to shade and suggestion.
In expression of hope and doubt, imperfection
is released unto the air for all to witness,
while within, tubes carry slick that oxygen and
sugar little pools of life demand to keep
the economy of the whole whole.

The flume was developed for delivery of
cut wood from forest to mill.  Men rode logs
and risked lives over water leaching sap and
stripping bark from them into the mill.
The people in the lazy river, invisibly haloed
by sunscreen drifting from bodies to current,
angels availed only as concentrations of light,
are protected from the eye that impels them,
log-like, around islands of chaise lounges and,
for an extra eighty bucks a pop, private bungalows.

Chlorine kills the germs that will kill the body
and kills the body, too, its smell the smell
of youth and the last light stage of white sheets
and tubes and unwilled deliverance.

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