William Stobb

Synchronized Swimming

Except walking

where an old Cadillac U-turns

mirrored shades make me

I think for a cop. Air

bleached, over-heated and

-exposed my black suit hangs

in a compact around

here I am dizzy

and I duck into the avenue

gallery where a grizzled burner’s

playing electric guitars

made from toasters and coat buttons.

Pictures hanging all of water

may be ironic but if I

plug my ears I do still hear

ocean inside this

synchronized swimming

routine twirl of

wallet and two Hendrix postcards

some eye rolling

and my surprising excellent plié

we’re alive after all

and afloat in this day

a tangle of terriers in the street.

Pause against the glass

door between me and

remembering the car I

changed after the service right

or left I don’t know I

make the door chime the air

too hot and visibly

pregnant one pit bull

locks my eyes I recognize

skinny trees buckle 

and release exhausted by 

the choreography of the sun.