Dusk.
Long Island Sound steams,
cooling after the August day heat.
I am nine.
I jump the rock path to the boulders
we have christened “the bath tub”
for one more cool swim before
the crowd returns to the city.
But, there, sitting on one side of the tub,
so close they might be seen as one in the mist,
Lester and Yana, his wife.
His left arm around her shoulder.
She, nuzzled against his chest,
her right hand on his leg,
her left hand moving slowly,
up and down, up…
They see me and smile as I
freeze
in the cooling air.
I do not know, not yet,
what is going on, but,
I sense enough to turn around,
to retreat from a mystery
which will, someday,
come to be solved.