This was something I have thought about.
This was three years ago and
most of the Poems do not need a change.
In the Hotel Swimming Pool (Old Men)
There were young girls
bronze and lighter
with young boys
same same
Old men notice this
but not too deeply
There were mothers
with children
a yell and a shriek
Old men remember
But not too far back
There were guys going out
to tag a smoke
and maybe else
old men wouldn’t be old men
if these times weren’t memories
There were young girls
showing lots of skin
for young men
promising
them
dreams
Bob Small 2-27-11 from 10-1 as was
revised slightly 2-2-2014
In the Hotel Swimming Pool #2
Most nights
these women would not even be fantasies
Maybe their daughters
their older daughters
who might be reviewing my fantasies
Most nights
I wouldn’t wonder
How their wet bathing suited bodies
would greet my naked hairy skin
Most nights
Most nights
I wouldn’t know the words to hello
for reasons of not complicating my life
for reasons of this being only one night
and the next time being never
Most nights
I wouldn’t even think these thoughts
let alone write them
Most nights I am not alone
Let alone feel alone
Most nights
2-17-11
In the Hotel Swimming Pool #3
I want to be dreaming
and not here
I want to be dreaming
and not of here
and not of her
and not of any of these hers
as they do not, surely, dream of me
I want to pack up my dreams
take them away
not that, I should add,
that I am too old
for these dreams
not that these women do not
have perfect bodies
as mine is imperfected
not that we could not relate on any
level but the physical
not meta physical or intellectual or
any shared experience
flesh is shared experience
and more than enough
I do not want these dreams
because I only want dreams
that are possible
that might…
Of course this is a lie
I do want these dreams
I do want these dreams
enough to write them
enough to dream them
enough to ….
Bob Small 2-27-11
In the Hotel Swimming Pool #5
It was a cold night in Virginia
I stood in the pool
then the whirlpool
it was warm there
as I tried not to listen
tried not to look
I remember snow on the ground
but this was October
not possible
I remember rounded bodies
sharp in some ways
not that I was looking
It was a cold night in Virginia
the young guys kept poking outside
I the only one I
looking at the daughters mothers
closely longingly
rememberingly
At a certain time
not too quickly
not too easily
foundthememory
I remember I was myself only there
after exercising
wife upstairs
bloody well know that
just as well that
At a certain time
not too quickly
not too easily
foundthememory
of whom I was
whom I wasn’t
whom I wanted to be and remain
Memory
Is a hard thing to lose
Bob Small 2-27-11
robertthesmall 