Last Day at the Swimming Hole

Two boys pick their way
barefoot down the rough sidewalk,
one bounces a ball,
they wear towels around their waists,
a bicycle pal weaves beside them.
The sun slides over brown skin,
bleached hair, dreaming faces,
a rock quarry with clear water.
They tiptoe half-naked bodies
down a path, gingerly as if
through nettles, toward
a waiting cage of desks
at the end of summer.