All day and night on this unchanging plane,
I swim across a tight, segmented pool;
Feels like I’m running through an endless train
With doors locked up to make me feel a fool.
I swim all day and night through clear-cut lines
Of plastic tubes–they’re colored phony red.
The chlorine soaks into my hair and eyes
And I think, ‘God, I want to go to bed.’
I’m going down, the water binds me here;
I’m stuck inside infinity–alone.
This water tastes like ocean–smells like fear–
I’m drowning on my solipsistic throne.
But then your face appears, and what a sight:
The water turns from dark to liquid light.