Swimmin' in it

Slipping my hand into the glove
that is Mandie's bubbles,
Coming blind out of my flip turn
and straining for the percussion
of her kick.

If it is there, I float into it.
If it is not, I reach for it.

Then it is my turn to lead
and I am a slippery eel
sluicing through the water
catching more than my share
faster than I have a right to be.

It's even OK
when Swimming Partner
with the unfortunate halitosis
catches me between sets.
Breathing hard and
blowing her nastiness
across three lanes.

It's all good
even to the grocery store
where my favorite bagger boy
wheels my cart to the car
unloading his self-conciousness
to reveal glimpes of a cat-loving
mama's boy.

I'm swimmin' in it tonight, kids.