A friend asks why I swim. Why not a movie? A drink? Dinner? I answer that I swim for strength,
For rippling triceps and a dimple in my thigh. I hide the lie with a stroke: I swim for the silence of the water.
2. An older woman stopped swimming and watched me. What a graceful stroke! What she loved, of course, was the mirrored beauty of her youth-the forgotten pleasure of her toughened skin.
3. The water undulates like a womb I do not remember. My fingers poke through for life. The air is unfamiliar.
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