It was summer; we were little,
My friend’s name was Sal.
We played, minding our own business,
When her dad called her to the side of the pool.
He reached across to her, picking her up by her arms
And dropped her into the water.
She couldn’t swim
And he had decided, at that moment to surprise her
And have her learn.
I stood by the edge and watched her sink.
It was beautiful.
She was so resigned to the fate
She sank slowly; the water bubbled lightly,
Her eyes wide open as down she went.
The pool seemed infinitely deep.
Her hair floated like snakes around her head
Her hands outstretched so sadly, pleading
Goodbye. I remember thinking goodbye.
Her father reached into the water
And plucked her out, back into the air.
Sal took some deep breaths
Lightly coughing- but quiet
Well behaved and accepting.
The father was angry
He cursed at her and turned away as if she had failed.
I went to her, but she wouldn’t speak
She was changed after that; she began to grow up
An adult coldness began to grow inside her.
I’ll never forget her eyes as she sank
Se clear, so wide, like looking into the universe
As the universe looks back.