Five things

First, there is the cramp in the neck
and the hair that holds one captive from shaking it away

Then there is the overlooked sky
and the pooling of warm stream water around plump, person-less stones
and here and there, the press of bare feet against sandals

Then there is the indefinite urgency
and being unable to put into words
exactly what one is doing, squandering the promised joy of a Sunday afternoon
like the fool who had prize seats at a baseball game
but took the safer roads and got stuck in traffic

Then there is the defeat of jiggling the folded lawn chair back into its skintight suit
and turning when a man splashes the crab-apples in wading by

Questioned about the pleasantness of his 'swim,'
the man answers "yes, spectacular," and smiles a raw, honest smile of aging teeth

Finally, there is the eye that trails up the soft dirt steps after him
and the tear that falls when he has disappeared
that traces its way into the moistness of the stones below