In my gym’s sauna,
I pretend I’m in Lapland
talking with my ancestors
about movies, oldies,
and hunky men. If others

are here, especially guys,
I stopper this fantasy,
knowing I could be
pulverized like that kid

in Wyoming.  A huge man
walks in barking at another
man about whores who
trick you out of your pants
and money.  He is so loud,

I remember The Wizard of Oz
cyclone, wonder where
will I drop when his hot air
stops our spinning?
July.  My canna lily’s
orange nail polish.  Today

the pool seen through tinted
glass, a blue lake
in sudden Finland.

****