another day passes, another day gone, a night too short, a day too long, and not enough light, too much and not enough, but the quiet contemplation, the flip, the alternation, the soft echoes off tiles, the pressured silence of water, up and down, over and abound, with long, smooth, strokes, letting, allowing of cruising, of gliding, of conserving energy in motion, friction limited speed, hairlessness aiding and abetting, and better, but arm over arm, pulling, dragging the rest of the body behind, reaching and gripping, surprising speed and mobility, left out of breath, with no sustain ability, a sprinter through and through, true to self, at distances short to excel, too long to succeed, and true to self.