‘Goggle Swingers’
by Daniel Buckley
House an op-shop of wild swim essentials.
Half-wringed, persistently-wet ozzy-cozzies bathe the tub,
Buckets of desalinating bat-suits block the back deck,
Tubs of after-aqua-accessories trip guests, pets n’ aboders.
Can’t swing a quoll without snicking
Sundry snarls of shimmering swimmers,
Skin-to-sea spacers of neon’ed nylon dark-room the bathroom in winter,
Hog n’ clog the hills hoist through summer.
A google of goggles dangle the decks n’ doorways
Of these flipper-happy hippies (swerving indifferent juju).
Sand shrouds, surfeits socks, sofas n’ sideboard surfaces
That’ve never even packed for the beach.
Gear-bags sentry stairwells and entrances,
Delay doors from realising full potential.
Filled with floating fixtures n’ fitments
They patiently wait for tomorrow morning’s still-night lane-laps,
Act as mid-warning-system for dirty stopouts.
Shared coastal maps,
Childishly graffitied by scribbly lines,
Make sense solely to this cold-plunging cadre,
Happy-heart-thumbed by other sirens
(Selkies, salties, mermaids, mild-marine-referenced maties).
Bay to Beach, Cape to Café,
Boat to Bakery, Rock to Ridge,
Point to Pumice Stone, Shoal to Shower.
Another weekend, another bloody series (race, cup, challenge, meet…).
Three life-stages of towel, aired…everywhere;
The scantiest – fluffy, suitably sized, recently clean numbers,
The thrice used – a tad salty n’ sandy, keen to go again,
The largest cluster – thin, short, sheet-like characters,
Chronically abused in the name of dryness,
Experts at unsought epidermal exfoliations.
Tins n’ tubes of logo-faded sunscreens,
A squelch or two short of empty,
Swell car wells, spill seat-sleeves.
Subaru boots n’ backseats overflow with grim reaper cloaks n’ seal coats,
Gazump groceries, school bags, hibernian hitchhikers.
Restrict cars to pillion’ing plus-one passengers
(The dog left to rue another opportunity missed).
Smart wrists twitch n’ zing,
Protest the pre-morning dark,
Remind your apnoea airway’ed athlete to alight
(Wake, stretch, swim, caffeinate, carb, sleep (on repeat)).
Frigid view of the great unplunged.
Merest trepidation at quick ocean dip
(Toe-testing, a breath, a moment or two…)
Callously mocked, stored for later retelling
With over-hearty condescension amongst their coldplay cohort.
Verily wondrous to view,
As their limbs gracefully caress, slip n’ slice surface tension.
Dolphin-like on land, walking odd, difficult to watch (hard not to intervene),
As knees clock together, ankles gnash,
Barely perceptible concrete cracks cruel their non-water cruising.
Not all bad.
Utterly hilarious aqua-aligned anecdotes,
Tall tales of displaced, errant buoys, misread race edicts,
Swims that missed their mark (Marks who missed their swim),
Shared, misheard, re-shared.
A call to nature exquisite in its simplicity,
Just them, their bodies, a wild open ocean
(Fluoro floating thingies tied to their toes (to tow to the tides), smartwatches, boat-based body snatchers, nose-pinchers, head warmer hair tamers, masks, under n’ oversuits, gloves n’ booties…).
