High Dive

by Jim Farfaglia

My brother and I pedal like mad,

leaving behind our quiet country road

and weaving through the city’s busy life.

 

A dime buys us a locker key,

we slip on our bathing suits

– bare feet tiptoeing on cold concrete –

 

and enter the West Side Pool,

with its endless playful waters

to splash away our summer sweat.

 

Later, sunning myself on a towel,

I watch the brave ones climb each rung,

triumphantly reaching the top,

 

then effortlessly diving into the water’s arms…

When would I climb my stairway of growing up?

How would I ever break the surface of my fear?

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