Morning swim
February 8, 2014No swimming after dark, the sign says. But it is still not dawn when we slip from air to water. The moisture collides in a rising fog that turns swimmers into ghosts.
The sky turns grey, then pink. The second hand sweeps around, around, around, ignored by all the steady lap swimmers. I slip from the pool as the second shift stumbles to the edge of the deck.
The hardest part is getting wet, I tell the man above me on the deck.
I know, he replies, windmilling his arms to delay entry. That’s why I’m still out here.
100 Proof 
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