A father wrestles with his little boy.
His treasured angel gently grasps his finger in her entire fist.
They are so excited about their morning swim with dad,
that they hardly even notice
when this unimposing, quiet man kisses mum goodbye
and she retires for a rare and precious hour of “me-time”.
After changing, he attentively shepherds them through.
He gives them reminders about not running on the cold, wet tiles.
He check their float aids and adjusts their goggles,
as they hop excitedly from foot to foot.
But it is not this example of paternal care and love
that causes the rest of us to conceal our stunned shock,
as if the water we are in had not just suddenly been electrified.
It is the visibly protruding hand-gun,
its muzzle tucked neatly into the waistband of his shorts,
that gets out attention.
Not to mention the demonic jester, complete with tri-belled hat,
that screams “Excessive!” at us from his upper arm.
With its venomous serpentine tongue striking, jabbing at us
Between his shoulder blades, squats a piratanical skeleton,
complete with eye-patch and rotting, brown leather boots.
It shrieks with laughter, as it sends a pair of bloodied craps die
tumbling our way.
The unfinished phrase “Love is…” spirals across his chest
in an ancient, yet ornate, cursive script.
And as dad playfully sprays his children
with water from a toy rubber whale,
they laugh and leap him from the edge.
Meanwhile, we all exchange glances,
not wishing to appear judgemental or snobbish
as we drift by, trying to get a better view.
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