I Take a Dip

The lakes I know
are all seen through
windows or sheathes
of brain, pseudo-eyes
that record dreams and memories.

We visit Lake Winnipeg
a weekday afternoon.
We stand on the boardwalk
in our traditional armor,
eyes made of flesh and glass.

My son invokes reality,
sorcerer who he is
with one insistence of his arm.
I am in the water letting
the cold lake remind me.

I swim, diving deep
into the murk. I view
blurs I haven't seen
since I was young. I laugh.

I come out reborn.
We joke about being
a reborn Jew. We joke
how water follows us everywhere.