I am at the pool early,
to get a spot with table and umbrella,
like we used to

but the tables are all gone

where we'd play cribbage for hours
over coladas and Marys (both bloody and virgin)

our laughter about His Nobs

the clown face through which  
you emerged the water slide, gliding 
feet-first, hands tucked to navel, 
is now painted over

the sunlight, though,
is precisely the same

in an old paperback I packed,
I find a folded bar-menu
from that day

cc: Chagall 2021