Swimming For Free

Her failed peek-a-boo
hinting from the window, with
slender binoculars teasingly 
held against her white cheek.
Tiny and blue-silver, they glint
and cast mischievous glances.

Her husband owns a pool,
but she never learned how.
Watching me float, the mountains
of her expensive bathing suits sit
in a pile of discontenting, cast-off skins.
She sips sours by the windowsill,
obviously
wanting to get caught.