midnight_dipping mon uow in vancouver in the summertime larry, the parkeeper didn't mind he said as long as we were careful didn't bring no bottles or nothing and didn't make too much noise didn't get the cops attention there was something awesome about breaking into the pool climbing over the fence breaking the stillness of the water something about the dark of night those quiet crazy sounds of everything imaginable hushed the rush of the cars down oak street telling the time by the buses stopping the diving boards were chained up i knew where to find the key but i didn't really care for diving at night it was mostly floating just floating on the water looking up at the sky and closing my eyes and being quiet one night my parents found the dummy in my bed and i was found out for sneaking off into the "who knows what could've happened". i was grounded for a month, and by the time my time was over the pool was closed for the season. but later, the next summer i once more was midnight dipping in that_pool i learned to swim in 050226 ... crOwl loved this. "telling the time by the buses stopping" nice. 050226 ... tender_square he said he felt like a swim, told me to pull into the parking lot of atkinson pool. the sun had sunk into the detroit river, the jeweled necklace of the ambassador bridge shone out across the water. “what do you mean? it’s closed,” i reminded him. he smiled conspiratorially. “i know a way in.” i parked my mustang and we climbed out of the car. he walked along the chain-link fence looking for a gap in one of the bottom corners, drew back the curtain of wire and showcased the opening like a model on the “price is right.” “but we don’t have bathing suits,” i protested. “we don’t need them.” he was pulling off his t-shirt, his shorts, his boxer briefs in the darkness. he sat at the lip of the pool and dissolved into the cool water. i stood reluctantly near his pile of clothes, and gradually took off my own, leaving them nearby. i slipped into the silky water, the temperature and thrill turning my skin into a bubble wrap of a billion goose pimples. i held the concrete ledge in the deep end with my fingertips, watching the headlights sweep riverside drive, occasionally grazing the pool. i sensed my pupils contract while my head bobbed above the water. he was relaxed, swimming breaststroke under the cover of night, gracefully rippling the charcoal waters. i turned toward the wall and planted my feet against it, pushed off with my weight and windmilled my arms into a backstroke, staring up at the stars bright enough to show themselves their porcelain beauty. 220122 ... unhinged symphony number four, second movement, johannes Brahms sounds like midnight skinny dipping to me, always has 220123 what's it to you? who go blather from