Saturday, August 09, 2008

the pool, parc laurier

The times one is tempted into the pool are usually the times it isn't available. Long after the howling seven-year olds and mating teens have retired, long after the slender life guards have bolted the door, when the church bells have rung their last, and the swallows punctured every inch of air, when the alleys of Montreal are scented with jasmine and pot, when the late night dinners start up on patios across the plateau, then the water calls. Still, cool, blue as a sea of Melmac, and completely out of touch.

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