Dazzling Memories

A cacophony of reflected colors

bounce off the slick exterior of the skis,

the rope between man and boat

soaked with refreshed droplets from failed starts.

Standing is hard enough,

add the weight of the boat,

and the surface of the water collides with stunned faces

and beads of sweat mixed with exhilarating cool.

Tubing is another monster,

the waves rock the buoy carrying bodies,

sending them skipping across the unforgiving field of blue,

the pigment of the lifejackets like scattered pinballs.

The Sun shines all the while,

a spectator to the chaos,

burning skin, lighting paths,

blinding the daredevils and making their landing pad gleam.

It is a game they play,

the lake and the Sun,

one catches the idiots,

the other watches and judges.

The tube was airborne for a split second,

the rider flew through the air,

their sweat winking back at them

as it soared through the white haze

cast by the sizzling ball of fire above.

But never was there hesitation,

a hint of doubt,

not a single care

in the world.

We've all landed hard,

our faces making contact with shimmering wet pavement,

but even in the wake of the glittering splashes and wipeouts

our laughter was the loudest.