The beauty of the boulder smiles a Kool.
All the looks and loneliness make
her want to blow the menthol out and pull
it in again. She loves her dog’s fake
obedience. She loves the man on the ledge
who’s fat, the only one who double flips
without a splash. She is the perfect judge,
more intent on how a body slips
into the water than the rippling pecs
on those unpracticed divers. That goddamned hair
the color of sun and her soprano breasts
are a curse to the mesomorphs who crave her stares.
Give her the fat man any day who rises
from the depths like a priest forbidden prizes.