Parade of Antlers

I pump my arms, my legs through chlorinated fluidity, hopeful of shaping up, not shipping out. up and down, side to side. sinking weights. still wet, dash off to my car. vinyl and towels on the seat. wouldn’t want to be pulled over, wearing only a coverup, but I want for my shower. to the top of the hill. Oh! Deer! spotted. no two. done. no three. the fourth has huge antlers. stops. I’ve opened my window so we can stare at each other. we have our moment. so four. no, five. the final oh-deer pulling up the rear, not as robust as the last. done. now, for the shower; and to show hub’ the pics of trees wagging tails, antlers in the midst, and the watered down animal snapped in my itty bitty forest.