Thinking back to that June afternoon,
the medals of coolness rise
to the top of memory like cream:
the park’s recipe of shade & breeze,
the surprise of watermelon,
& the celestial spray of the fountain
we stood close to.
I kept stretching my arms wide,
pushing my belly, hot as everything else,
into the mist. Underneath the separate
sprays was Poseidon, his beard
like twelve ropes conversing.
Looking at my companions,
I could not say with conviction
whom I loved most.
The library stood nearby & lampooned
me with a gleaming
of columned creatures in gold
that bared a deep and stately knowledge
unknowable to any of us
sweaty, splattering humans.
Therefore I, neither Greek nor godlike,
exhaled as my dream self jumped
into the arctic spume of the fountain
and there, unbodied & wild,
I showered down beside Poseidon, a rainbow of cool.