THE GUN full swing the swimmer catapults and cracks<?xml:namespace prefix = o /> s i x feet a way onto that perfect glass he catches at a n d throws behind him scoop after scoop cunningly moving t h e water back to move him forward. Thrift is his wonderful s e c ret; he has schooled out all extravagance. No muscle r i p ples without compensation wrist cock to heel snap to h i s mobile mouth that siphons in the air that nurtures h i m at half an inch above the sea level so to speak. T h e astonishing whites of the soles of his feet rise a n d salute us on the turns. He flips, converts, and is gone a l l in one. We watch him for signs. His arms are steady at t h e catch, his cadent feet tick in the stretch, they know t h e lesson well. Lungs know, too; he does not list for a i r he drives along on little sips carefully expended b u t that plum red heart pumps hard cries hurt how soon i t s near one more and makes its final surge TIME: 4: 25: 9 |
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