Blue and white bathing suit, like when we were in high school.
She was a proud Fae, head high. I was a trickster, a sighing fool.
A pool in the backyard of an old friend, who we don’t know well.
She floats in the deep end, and I make wishes, hopes, all pell mell.
I was infatuated and obsessed in my youth, her arch pride, dark eyes.
I think she valued me, not as knight errant, not how crushes complies.
We talked once, over illicit wine, on a late night in a dark living room,
the tales of bastard saviors and fake ass demon friends that bring doom.
Blue and white bathing suit, and a lust memory, a dream I was a holy saint.
I should have been a man of god, a confessor and forgiver, without this taint.
I watch her float, weightless in harsh clear water, mesmerized by that sun.
I think she is lost, that I am gone already, but every scholar angel is on the run.
Can I put away the young man I was? Can I move past 40 and disappointed?
Beauty goes from yellow head to seeds blown in the wind, that is all appointed.
The water between worlds, the ocean in a tea cup, sky and pool not one blue.
Maybe we’ll be back to fighting demons, get to be angels again, that fight we drew.