Wasted Youth.

At the local pool there are the members and there are the lifeguards.

The members are thirty-something parents, children in tow. The women wear bathing suits that cover their tummies. Stretch marks and spider veins mar every leg. Too much beer drinking by the men, clearly. We have puffy middles and loose skin. One has crow's feet from the sun; another has a permanent 'I worry' crease on his forehead.

The lifeguards are, on average, fifteen years old. Fit and tan are their trademark descriptors. Their skin is impossibly smooth. Where are the weird hairs?

There are two lying next to each other on chaise chairs. A boy and a girl. I think they're together but it isn't blatent. My mind wanders to when they're alone on his parent's couch. Their beautiful bodies close to one another, unbridled stamina and lust filling their hearts...and they have no idea what is going on. He is as clumsy as she is. Um, er, uh....So clueless.

I'd rather have my lumpy bod and the brain and experience that go with it. I'd rather have his body, scars and all, and the brain that's wondering which lustful, fearless, hilarious, and unhinged way it's going to go this time. And when we meet as two gorgeous animals...

Oh those poor kids.