Mermaids

In the hallway you are searching for the mermaid. The creature that was backstroking in Glen Oak Lagoon while you were skidding gravel across the coppery reflection of the son, the creature who was submerged wearing a synchronized swimming cap, doing the butterfly stroke and Tina cornered me in her pool in just her bra and panties and wreathed her wet fins around my torso, informing me not to be coy.

 He does not have a face.


He walks into the classroom and sits down.