• Vol. 03
  • Chapter 03
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Tessa, That Time On Lake Toba

The boy didn’t need a raincoat.

(Nope it wasn’t raining.) He swanned in,

diving in the magenta heat,

light as scales, throbbed ballet-like,

and you know what he got?

The coins we tossed into the clear,

and it was such a theater,

to fetch them back.

When I went on a vacation,

it was rest alternated with seeing.

Sitting under the shade of some tree–

bodhi, chestnut, tree-with-no-name.

That time I sat on a wooden deck chair

under the open sky, camera in hand,

watching the repertory of dives.

Touching. Heart babbling.