I love the play of humaness,
Language hovering like a cloud
Of gnats over bathers chatting
As they enter into the lake,
Three women of bathing-cap age.
"Then the rigor mortis sets in!"
"I could use more rigamarole!"
"It's hard on your boobs, really hard."
It's beautiful to listen to,
Not three women, really, but one,
Co-created conversation,
Being in which I, too, am one.
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