Dog Breath

grooveamatic

The dog doesn't know me,
But he licks my face
When I cling to the wall
Of the swimming pool.
His breath is that of stamps and flour,
Not pleasant or unpleasant.
I submerge.
The world drops away.
Flowering and then unflowering my legs,
I push off the wall,
Glide noiselessly over the chlorinated landscape
Until I encounter the other wall.
I surface.
Glancing toward the dog,
I see he has retreated from the pool's edge,
Is laying on his side in the sun.
He is having fun being a dog.
I submerge once again,
Flower then unflower my legs,
Go back the way I came.
I surface.
He is there, waiting for me.
He licks my face,
His breath not pleasant or unpleasant.