in motion

I notice a hole in the hardwood floor, a gap to the space below, rooms with light coming up-- and then I see more holes, scattered, worn by walking-- and it occurs to me, viscerally, that this floor is undependable. I try to imagine a way I might fix it-- and there's even a guy downstairs who might do it for me-- but really I'm leaving this place, so I don't much care.

there's a channel of cool fresh water outside, and my friend and I go to swim in it-- it's like a living snapshot of a river, just this little piece framed by concrete and then the rest flowing in and away at either end and out of sight-- all we can see is what's right here, bright and clear and in motion. I say, I'll bet it would be good for lap swimming-- and my friend gets right in and goes to work swimming against the current-- which is strong, and she struggles. and me? all I want is to get in and ride that current away.