Echelons

Feet on the bottom of a
swimming pool
at times still fill me with
strange sensation
retaining an unknown,
odd fear – wet concrete
hard, dispassionate

I was eight the first time I
hit chlorinated water
our family trumpeting
middle-class arrival
vacation traveling
staying at a motel

With a pool.

Unimpressed,
disappointed I was
in the outcome of
newly bourgeois journey
having previously spent
my summer days splashing
in Horseshoe Lake

squishing sandy clay
through
suntanned toes
trying in vain to step on
minnows
flossing feet on
slimy weeds
catching oblivious
frogs

The pool didn’t ooze
could only bruise

My middle class
awakening was one
of haughty pretentiousness
looking down as I was at
my fellow travelers
also my age
though obviously lacking
my significant
expertise in
how things should be

I sadly realized
only much later that
perhaps they lacked my
insight and
experience but also

very hopefully

my posing, self-righteous
pity
at their sorry
lots in life

– Mark Lucker

© 2019
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