after thirty-seven jumps
off the high dive
while holding my nose
at Lloyd’s indoor swimming pool
Evansville, Indiana  

peanut-buttery fuel for everything
from beginner lessons
to endless Sunday afternoons
watching light flicker and ripple
across the wooden ceiling  

the muffled sound of voices
hitting ears two feet underwater  

clouds passing over sky light windows  

teenagers tanning on the deck  

that zig-zagging path to the locker rooms
carrying wet towels and flip-flops in a bundled mess  

I passed the concrete dolphin at the entrance
driving home recently
thought of maybe some exercise
a stop at the concession counter
then I heard they’re closing it forever
in favor of a new pool across town  

another piece of childhood  

crumbling away  

as if to say–so much for nostalgia, kid  

I never minded the smell of chlorine
lingering on my skin.