Heat a la Hoops

After spending a day at the pool and returning to a car that reported the Death-Valley temperature, I just knew this slice was dying to be written.  So, for only the second time in my career, I reached for Hoops as my mentor.  This poetic rendering of a relate-able experience made capturing this moment a true experiment with language.  From one-word sentences (again) to alliteration, and (what my teammate calls) hyphenated hound-dogs, this mentor has a little bit of everything.

Heat.

Sizzling. 

Escape.

Wait!

The skin-whitening, sun-deflecting smear. 

The impatient feet dipping beneath

The blue-glass surface.  

Waiting. 

Ready.

The toe-dipping deepens.  

The shoulder-tense, hands-in-the-air crisp chill

Replaced by cool relief. 

Out.

Feel the arctic shiver.

Feel your skin pop, starved for sun-drying.

The as-long-as-you-can-stand-it stand-off

At the edge of the pool.

You can do it this time.

Knees bent,

Hands in fists at the end of pumping arms.

The free-as-a-bird flight.

Feet leaving the pavement,

Hitting the warm water wrap,

Slicing through to the bottom.

The not-too-deep depth.

Just enough.

Again.

Back to the wall.

Arms planked to pull you from the suit-clinging sea.

Stand-off on the side. 

Prepare. 

Deep breath.  

The I-know-you-can-do-it

I'm-watching-you stare.

Jump.

Again.

Heat.

Sizzling.

Escape.

Freedom.

Hoops.  The book.  Imitate it.  

Go on.  

Try.