Rinsing the Stein

She wrinkles the pool water     The pool
blue trembling    Her head in a bun
presides from the pool    It is not fun 
to watch from the second story window
the invasion    Her presumption a curse
worse to sense the clear signal    Her thinking
rising above the flickering water 
of common property eclipsed by trespass 
chafing my landlubbed skin seeking peace 
from above and trying not to look down
despite the anxious impulse to protect
what is mine thus ineligible 
to be claimed via some false history
The invalid flowers of friendship faded
 






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