Formerly Pink Pantoum

FORMERLY PINK PANTOUM

The year I wore a pale pink bathing suit,
our class sea-danced to music by Ravel.
My suit was silky as a parachute.
It felt smooth as skin when I swam the crawl.

Our class sea-danced to music by Ravel.
I waited with the other girls to race.
It felt smooth as skin when I swam the crawl.
I got up from my towel, took my place.

I waited with the other girls to race.
Along came a biddy I had not met
I got up from my towel, took my place.
“I see you’re wearing a pink bathing suit.”

Along came a biddy I had not met.
“From the window in my room you look nude.
I see you’re wearing a pink bathing suit,
from the hotel it looks like your bare bod.”

“From the window in my room you look nude.”
I was humiliated, my face flamed.
“From the hotel it looks like your bare bod.”
I was sickened by what she said, ashamed.

I was humiliated, my face flamed.
My suit was silky as a parachute.
I was sickened by what she said, ashamed,
the year I wore a pale pink bathing suit.