Here I am! Didja miss me?
I know that I’m a fair-weather friend,
an over-90-degrees-before-I-test-
your-waters swimmer,

which is, perhaps, unfair, but you are
solar heated only by the actual sun, not
any fancy equipment, and I’m sure
I’m not the only timid one.

So it’s fine if you didn’t miss me,
that you barely remember my name
or my form breast-stroking
down your length,

though it feels as if we’ve been
on intimate terms for years—
decades, if truth be told. A
seasonal affair, you and I.

A same-time-next-year
arrangement that you clearly
enjoy with many others—
polyamory, is it nowadays?

But I’m not jealous, not as
long as you receive me as
warmly as you do tonight,
as I slip into your silky

embrace, reacquaint myself
with your liquidity, then
plunge in, stroking gently,
as we get used to each other—

oh, the thrill!—again.